


In every sense of the word

by bobafiend



Category: DCU
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Getting Together, Humor, Identity Reveal, M/M, Misunderstanding, Ramen, Secret Identity, Sort Of, clark drastically overthinking things, clark's insatiable addiction to coffee, how to passive aggressively say fuck you in flower, like honestly more coffee than a coffee shop au could dream of, monitor duty, y'all can judge that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23381521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobafiend/pseuds/bobafiend
Summary: Superman could not find it in himself to get along with Batman. Every conversation between the two was an argument, and not even Wonder Woman could force the two to make peace.At least everything was going well at work. Bruce Wayne had recently bought the Daily Planet, and Clark was finding himself rather taken with the man.Alternatively titled "Why Wonder Woman is on the verge of losing her fucking mind."
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 50
Kudos: 705





	In every sense of the word

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoy this goofy fic as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Clark Kent was good and angry with his new boss. Ever since that Wayne idiot bought the _Daily Planet_ , he’d been making all these little “improvements” around the building.

The classic coffee machine had been replaced by a row of those new-fangled Keurig things. The ones you need the little cups for? Clark was not having it. 

How do you know when there’s already water in the top? 

How do you know which kind of cup to use for your co-worker? 

You can’t make a full pot of coffee in bulk, so what’s the point of having one of them in an office?

Clark had already managed to press the wrong mug size button three times since the day the Keurigs showed up, and his coworkers were unamused when he tried to claim that the burning coffee cascading off the sides of the counter added an artistic flair to the drab room.

Despite (or possibly because of) their frustration at the hopelessly sticky counter, the rest of the office had been teasing him mercilessly for his inability to use the “simple” machine. Their jibes only made Clark mourn the loss of the old Mr. Coffee more when he gazed at the stubborn brown ring on the counter that marked where it used to sit.

Clark silently cursed Bruce Wayne as he tried to make his coffee. (Only his own coffee, not a full, communal pot that anyone could refill their own mug with.) He was pulled from his frustration by his partner, Lois, arriving beside him at the break room counter with an announcement to make.

“Clark, don’t be predictable when I tell you this.”

“I’ll do my best,” he chuckled.

“Mr. Wayne, the new owner, is coming in to introduce himself later today and-“

“You’re kidding! He thinks he can jus-”

“AND,” Lois continued as if he hadn’t interrupted her in a most predictable way, “I want to ask him a few questions about Gotham’s Batman. He might know something we don’t because he’s from the area, so don’t lose me my story.”

“I suppose he is from up there in Gotham, isn’t he? He’s got no business buying up a paper in Metropolis, what’s he doing that for?” Clark exclaimed, trying to keep his voice low. The last thing you want to do is start drama in a building full of people trained to listen for it.

“I want to know as much as you do, Clark, but I’m not going to ask and you aren’t either.” Lois didn’t phrase it like a question.

Once Clark had (sort of) managed to make himself some coffee, the pair walked back to their desks together. Their desks were pressed together facing each other, and some of Lois’s notes had found their way to Clark’s side. As good as Lois was at her job, you certainly couldn’t call her tidy. Clark had come to accept the overflow as simply part of his workspace.

Maybe it would bother him more if it was someone’s mess other than Lois, but he found he had unreasonably high patience for his best friend. Ignoring the scrawled notepad pages and redlined first drafts, Clark resumed his own work.

He was following the trail of an intriguing story. Some foreign billionaire had gotten himself tangled up in a political web of nightmares and Clark was making it his job to unravel the whole mess for the world. 

He was so engrossed in his work, all hunched over his computer and peering over his glasses at his own sea of papers, that he’d completely forgotten about Wayne’s impending visit by time afternoon rolled around.

This blissful state of forgetfulness was broken when the man himself stepped out of the elevator and onto the second story walkway, practically on display for anyone in the bullpen. It was a balcony, not a runway. Wayne didn’t seem to care.

“Good evening, all of you wonderful reporters!” His voice was high pitched and shallow, like he’d practiced that on the elevator ride up without a lot of thought behind it.

“My name is Bruce Wayne! My employees tend to call me Mr. Wayne, but the papers always call me Brucie, so since you’re all technically both, you guys can call me whatever you want!” He laughed and a few of the brown-nosers on staff laughed with him. (Clark did not. It wasn’t funny.)

“Now, I just wanted to say a couple words to all of you. I think the work that your paper does is fantastic, and I won’t be trying to change much around here. I’ll do what I can to improve the little things, put in orders for new chairs and stuff like that, but the rest is really up to you!”

Clark was not much of a businessman, but even he knew that was not how owning a newspaper worked. Clark used to feel bad when he saw other papers calling Wayne an airhead, but now he was wondering if they actually played his aloofness down instead of up like he’d thought.

Why did he buy a paper? Clark doubted he could even read.

Wayne had apparently said something about coming down to observe everyone working and meet some of the new employees, but Clark had missed it due to his fuming.

Wayne and his deliberately tousled hair talked to Perry in his office for a moment. The two men shook hands and Wayne emerged into the wild of the bullpen. Clark did not exert his powers listening to their conversation. It wasn’t worth it.

He ‘talked’ to Cat Grant (see: chatted up) for an extended amount of time, and briefly exchanged words with a few other reporters as he worked his way across the newsroom supposedly trying to remember names and faces.

Eventually, Wayne reached Clark and Lois’s setup.

“Miss Lane! Working hard as always?” He leaned over Lois’s desk on his elbows, getting just a little too close.

Clark instantly couldn’t stand the guy (not that he had the most open of minds going into their meeting.) Lois could take care of herself, of course, but seeing Wayne push into his best friend’s space like that made Clark tick.

This was Lois they were talking about, though, and Lois after a story nonetheless. She could kick his ass to Egypt and probably manage to get a usable quote out of it.

“You know it, Mister Wayne,” Lois didn’t move away. “You know my work?” 

Of the two of them, Clark was more likely to attempt to charm his way to a story. Lois tended to be better at it, though.

In fact, she had a 100% success rate thus far.

Or at least she did until now. 

Apparently the man wasn’t a total sleazeball after all, because he leaned away from Lois slightly. The last thing Clark expected to see Wayne do today was keep a professional distance from the women in the room, but maybe the other papers actually _had_ exaggerated the playboy bachelor aspect of his life.

“I think your business and society pieces are super great! I never have the time to catch up on the other sections though.” Wayne talked about missing updates on current events like missing an episode of a TV show. Clark found his annoyance growing. “I’m sure your stuff there is just as good, though!”

“Would you consider reading for another section if you were the subject?” Lois questioned.

“What are you implying, Miss Lane?”

“Well I would just _love_ an interview with the most successful man in Gotham!” She flashed him a flirty smile, trying again to charm him.

“Well I will just have to think about that.” He smiled back plastically.

Clark rolled his eyes behind the other man’s back. He’d better give Lois an interview, she deserved it from having to spend this much time with him already.

“I’m gonna go make some coffee. Clark, you want anything?” She said, standing up.

“No thanks, Lois!” His words were polite but his face showed how he felt about this betrayal. Lois left him alone with Bruce Wayne.

“And who would you be?” Wayne said, looking Clark up and down.

“Clark. Clark Kent. Nice to meet you, Mr. Wayne!” Clark smiled as cheerfully as he could manage and offered his hand to shake. He may not like the man so far, but that’s no excuse for throwing his manners out the window. Ma raised him better than that.

“Please, call me Bruce.” ‘Bruce’ shook his hand and held on for longer than Clark would have prefered. 

Maybe they just have long handshakes in billionaire society Gotham.

Who was Clark to know?

Bruce lowered himself into the uncomfortable chair beside Clark’s desk. Apparently he’d be here for a little while.

“Working on anything interesting?”

“Oh you know, the usual. They caught another rich CEO up in a scandal and now it’s my job to tell the world about it.” Clark said it cheerfully, but the words had an underlying threat that it didn’t take a detective to pick up on.

Speaking of detectives, Clark had had it up to his eyebrows with his other “coworker’s” nonsense too. But that’s a story for another time and place. After work and on the Watchtower specifically.

“Oh? Anyone I might know?” Bruce seemed genuinely curious.

“I don’t think so, he’s from the capital of Greater Bialya, and it hasn’t been safe to go over there lately with the recent coups attempting to overthrow the queen.”

“The _Planet_ covers stories in Bialya?” Did Wayne know nothing about the paper he’d just purchased?

“Uh, yes sir, Mr. Wayne. That’s why we call it the _Planet_ ”

“Ohhh, that makes so much more sense now!”

Clark mentally facepalmed.

“So you’re a metropolite. Have you always lived here?” What was with the small talk? Bruce hadn’t spent nearly this much time chatting with the other reporters. Well, except for Cat, but that was more of a ‘chatting up’ situation than ‘chatting with.’ And Bruce certainly wasn’t chatting Clark up, so was all this really necessary?

“I moved here a couple years ago to work for this fine paper, but I grew up in Smallville.”

“Ah, a farm boy born and raised!” 

Not quite, Clark thought to himself, but he only nodded politely at his new boss’s unnecessary and possibly condescending comment.

“Did you like it out there?” How many aimless questions was the man planning on asking?

“Yes, sir! Love it out there.” Clark smiled before angling his body back towards his work.

Wayne got the message. (Finally.)

“Well it was just so nice to talk to you, Mr. Kent!”

Clark turned back around halfway for another handshake, and Wayne moved on to his next victim.

Lois returned from the break room. Despite what he’d said before, Clark actually did want her to make some coffee for him. Fortunately, she knew him well enough to know that he would never really say no to coffee.

She placed a mug in front of her partner.

“Thank you, Loi-”

“So, Wayne sure had a lot to say to you.” Lois cut off his gratitude while quickly taking a seat in the chair that Wayne had just vacated. She leaned forward, clearly intrigued.

Clark quickly looked around the room to find where the man in question was. He found him chatting with a group of older reporters near the business and economy cluster of the bullpen. He looked uncomfortable. He was also looking directly at Clark.

“Is he staring at me right now?”

“Yes, Clark. I do think he is.”

Clark huffed a small sigh and turned back to his work, that was enough excitement for one day. He could answer Lois’s questions later, it’s not like the brief conversation had a lot of substance to talk about.

He pumped out a first draft relatively quickly. Every time he finished a page he would print it out and slide it over to Lois so she could check it for grammar.

She pretty much rewrites the entire thing every time he asks her to check one word for him.

That’s okay though.

She might be a better writer than him.

He won’t admit it where she can hear it, though.

At the end of the day, Clark packed up his briefcase just like everyone else around him. He waved goodbye to the coworkers he was friendly with, and left the building.

He held the door for the people that left after him, because Ma raised a gentleman.

He walked back to his apartment and tried three wrong keys before finding the right one to get in through the front door despite the fact he’d lived in the same walkup for years.

Then, as he pondered what the other three keys were even for, he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt to become Superman.

When Clark was at work, he had a whole host of human issues to deal with. Stupid coffee machines, rapidly approaching deadlines, unhelpful sources, stupid coffee machines, annoying new bosses, and stupid coffee machines.

He had enough going on that he hardly had time to think about his side gig as a superhero during the day (except when he was running out of the building to save someone, of course.) But now he was in costume, and Clark remembered everything that happened the previous night on board the Watchtower.

Oh, he was so mad at Batman.

Superman arrived at the Watchtower five and a half minutes before the league meeting was scheduled to start. He waved hello to Barry Allen near the zeta platform, and strolled down the hallway doing preemptive breathing exercises to brace for the anger that would hit him when he saw Batman.

He walked into the meeting room with three minutes to spare.

“You’re late.” Oh _hell_ no, he wasn’t even going to try to play civil?

“Oh, am I?” Clark smiled with the same level of sincerity he’d smiled at Wayne with earlier.

“By four minutes.”

“Really? Well I’m so sorry then, I didn’t realize we’d rescheduled the meeting to start at seven fifty-three. Silly me.” Clark kept on smiling as he took his seat on the side of Wonder Woman that Batman wasn’t already occupying.

It didn’t go unnoticed to him that Batman had taken their leader’s right side, leaving Clark the left. The gesture wasn’t appreciated, but Clark knew better than to comment if he wanted to get out of here and get some sleep before midnight.

“Make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Batman growled in that stupid voice of his. Did he have laryngitis all the time? Was he giving himself laryngitis talking like that? Part of Clark hoped so. Not that he’d say anything.

“Of course! Sorry, Wonder Woman.” Why should he apologize to anyone but their leader for his (nonexistent) tardiness? He saw Batman’s jaw tighten. Good.

Batman and Superman spoke little for the rest of the meeting, a routine check in, but they both remained in the meeting room as the others cleared out.

Wonder Woman was the last to leave, and she gave the two of them a sternly disapproving look as she closed the door on them behind herself.

“Well?” Batman bit antagonistically.

“Well what?”

“Have you come to apologize for your ridiculousness yesterday?” Oh, those were fighting words.

“You know, Batman, I’m afraid I’m not sure what I have to apologize for. Barry asked me to cover his monitor duty, I couldn’t because I had work. You’re the one who lost your mind and started screaming like I’d killed your dog over a conversation that you weren’t even part of!”

Batman’s face had gone very still.

“How do you know I have a dog?” He said it so softly that Clark was sure a regular human would have had to ask him to repeat himself.

“Wh- it’s a saying! You have a dog?”

“No. Maybe. Yes. That’s not the point.” Batman snarled.

“You’re the one who brought it up, don’t get all up in arms with me!”

“You’re the one whose standing here arguing with me instead of admitting you may have done something wrong. I’m just trying to keep the League running smoothly, and that won’t happen if you’re actively trying to make an enemy of everyone,” Batman said.

“I waved to Flash when I got here, and he waved back, so I think we’re probably fine.” Superman crossed his arms smugly, “And I really don’t think you’re anyone to talk about picking fights and making enemies.”

Batman had no response.

“Flash and I are fine,” Superman continued. “ _You_ and I, on the other hand, are not.”

“Wh-”

“Let me finish! Why did you get so angry over the monitor schedule yesterday? And not just that, you refuse to cooperate with me on anything!”

“That’s not true!”

“ _You're literally doing it right now_ " Superman threw his hands up in frustration.

“I can disagree with you without it being a sign of uncooperation, we aren’t going to have the same thoughts on everything.”

“Well so far since we founded this league we haven’t had remotely similar thoughts on _anything_!”

“And what, Superman?” Batman hissed his name like it was an insult. “You think cooperation is a one man decision? It’s not like you’ve made any effort to meet me halfway on any of our disagreements.”

“But I’m willing to try, that’s the difference. You’re too stuck inside your own big bat-shaped head to even consider that someone else might be right every once in a while!”

“You think I really think that highly of myself? I spend everyday wishing I could be better.” Ugh, he was so dramatic.

“Oh, bless your heart.” Clark faked a sympathetic look to accompany the scathing insult, and stormed out the door with his cape whipping angrily behind him.

He heard a disbelieving scoff from the meeting room as he left.

Good.

“Hey, Supes?”

Superman turned around. It was Flash.

“Hey, Barry.”

“You got a minute?” He seemed to have realized that Superman was in a mood, because he shrank back towards the door he was standing in.

Clark let out a breath and released the tension in his shoulders.

“Yeah, I’ve got a minute. You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. For sure. Just wanted to make sure you know I’m not upset with you over monitor duty. I got Hal to cover my shift so I could go to Wally’s track meet, it was no big deal.”

“I really appreciate you telling me that, Barry. I’m glad you got to go. I think the only person with hard feelings over all of it is Batman.”

Barry gave Clark a confused look that mirrored Clark’s own thoughts on the whole situation. “...yeah. Well anyways, have a good night, Supes.”

“You too, Flash.” 

Clark was about to Zeta out of the Watchtower when he remembered he needed to check the monitor duty schedule before he left. In all the excitement over scheduling shifts yesterday, Clark never actually checked when his were.

On his way to the central bulletin board where things like schedules and ‘lost sword’ flyers got put up, Clark heard arguing behind a closed door.

He couldn’t help but focus a little more on listening to it.

“You have to stop antagonizing him, Batman.”

“I’m not antagonizing him, Wonder Woman. I’m just exercising caution.”

“Caution that is unnecessary. Why do you feel that you can’t trust him?”

Clark stopped listening and quickened his pace towards the bulletin board. That’s what this was about? Trust? And the man couldn’t just walk up to Clark and talk to him about it? Clark had never done anything to break Batman’s trust, it would do him good to be a little less overly cautious sometimes.

He reached the board. His eyes scanned the papers and charts until he found the one he was looking for.

“Monitor Schedule - Arranged by Wonder Woman” Wait, what?

Typically, the League sat down together and worked out the schedule as a group. Everyone shared their nonavailable dates and times, and they worked out a schedule that accommodated everyone’s busy lives.

Clark had forgotten that they never finished working out this month’s schedule last night because of the fight that broke out between him and Batman.

Since she was the leader of the League, Clark supposed Wonder Woman had the authority to do something like rewrite the entire schedule on her own. She typically ran a democracy, but the fight between her other two co-founders last night was enough to turn anyone into a dictator.

That really showed in the fact that she finished out the entire schedule without consulting anyone. Or, at least, she didn’t consult Clark.

Monitor duty was a 24-hour, round the clock rotation comprised of three hour shifts. Leaguers with civilian jobs usually couldn’t pick up shifts during the work day, so they ended up getting stuck with ungodly hours within the 9:00pm-6:00am time frame.

Clark ran his eyes across the calendar until he found his name.

Every time he saw “Superman,”

He saw “Batman” scheduled at the same time.

From midnight to 3:00 in the morning.

Every night.

For an entire month straight.

Oh that _would not_ do.

-

Clark woke up the next morning in a hell of a mood.

Everything about the previous day crashed down on him as he tried to get out of bed, the weight of the memories effectively pushing him back into the mattress.

Brucie Wayne and Batman may have been separated nightmares, but the interactions had happened close enough in time to each other that bitter feelings from both were churning unpleasantly in Clark’s stomach. 

Clark could not force himself to get out of bed until he’d gotten himself into a bit of a bind with only a minute and a half to get up, get ready, and get into the office.

That was no big deal, he did have superspeed.

His coffee machine didn’t.

He was able to get washed up and dressed in a whirlwind of cheap suits and glasses he didn’t need. Then he flew to work and ran in right at nine behind a speed walking trickle of other oversleepers.

“Almost late there, Kent.” Perry called from the doorway of his office overlooking the bullpen.

“Don’t worry, Chief, I won’t make a habit of it!” Clark called back from the end of the queue of arriving reporters

Perry nodded in approval and walked into his office.

Clark made it to his desk and threw his stuff haphazardly into his chair before launching into history’s sleepiest power walk toward the break room.

What kind of sick joke was it that Clark’s alien system drew the line at getting drunk, but let him develop a caffeine dependency?

Mercifully, the room was empty. The relief from that realization quickly wore off when Clark realized what the coffee machine status was. Keurigs. Fucking Keurigs. Clark swore these things were half as bad as kryptonite. The sleek machines with their unmarked buttons taunted his tired brain from the counter they recently conquered and claimed as their own.

All of his coworkers said that they were better than the ancient Mr. Coffee that had graced the office previously, but they weren’t! They just weren’t. Clark knew the ins-and-outs of the old machine like the back of his hand and for some reason he couldn’t even begin to understand this new one.

Yeah, there’s only a couple of buttons, so what?

He found himself glaring holes into the coffee machine (well, not actually, that would have been bad,) until someone broke his trance.

“That’s one staring contest I don’t think you can win, Mr. Kent.” In the doorway stood Bruce Wayne.

“Mr. Wayne! I didn’t realize you’d be back today.” Clark tried to sound excited about the development.

“I’ve decided to stick around for a couple of workdays, really get the lay of the land.”

“Ah.”

“You were about to make coffee, I presume?”

“I, uh, yeah. Long night. Worked late.”

“Is Perry overworking you?” Wayne seemed concerned. Clark supposed it was his job to be.

“No, no. Different job.” Clark mentally facepalmed. That was worse.

“You work a second job? Is the pay here not adequate, if you don’t mind answering?”

“No, it’s not that. Everything here is great. It’s a nonprofit thing I do on the side. To give back. Really just because I can.” That was… surprisingly honest. Clark mentally gave himself a pat on the back. He’d have to use that excuse again sometime.

“I see. You seem tired, everything okay over there?”

“Yeah, just having some issues with a… coworker of mine. And as long as I’m being honest with you, I’ve barely been able to make myself a cup of coffee at work since these shiny things replaced the old pot.” 

There. His big secret was out. 

Actually, all things considered, this was maybe his small secret.

“Well here, let me make you a cup then. You’re falling asleep standing up, Mr. Kent!” Wayne’s voice almost sounded teasing. Clark didn’t have the energy to read into it.

Wayne started two cups going on twin machines, one for him and one for Clark. The two men stood in silence as the smell of coffee started to fill the room.

When the Keurigs went quiet, Wayne handed one of the mugs to Clark.

“I hope you’re able to work things out with your coworker.” Wayne smiled, and left the room.

That particular smile. It was different. Not like the ones Clark had seen pictures of in the tabloids or the ones he gave Cat Grant and Lois yesterday.

The smile he just gave Clark seemed to reach his eyes, it transformed his face into someone different. Someone pretty, if Clark did say so himself. (Which, of course, he didn’t. Not on the record at least.)

Clark stared down at his coffee suspiciously before taking a sip. It was perfect. He might not hate Wayne so much after all.

He returned to his desk in considerably higher spirits than he’d left it in, a fact that Lois was quick to pick up on.

“Interesting, Smallville. I was worried for Wayne’s safety when he followed you into the breakroom with you looking as angry as you did. Wasn’t expecting you to leave anything but angrier. Dare I ask what you talked about?”

“Not much, really.” It was the truth, you could hardly even call it a conversation.

“Interesting.” She repeated.

Neither said anything else about the encounter, instead they both got to work. Lois left around ten to chase a lead about the scandal she was tracking, something about a governor and disappearing welfare funds. Clark stayed at his desk making phone calls about a new drug some pharmaceutical company just announced that Perry told him to look into.

It was boring stuff, but Clark was happy to write what he was assigned. He was grateful for the slow day, lord knows he needed one every now and again.

When lunchtime rolled around, Clark found that he actually had time to leave on his break. A luxury compared to his usual routine of working through the break and scarfing down a mediocre sandwich at his desk.

He was halfway out the building when someone called out to him.

“Mr. Kent!” Clark paused until the other man caught up with him.

“Mr. Wayne! Can I help you with anything?”

“I was just wondering if you were going out for lunch.”

“That was my plan,” Clark answered cautiously.

“Do you mind if I join you? I don’t know where any of the good spots are in Metropolis.”

“I was just gonna go to this ramen place down the street, nothing fancy. You’re welcome to come with if you’d like, though.” Well what was he supposed to say?

“Oh, I love ramen! It could not matter less to me if it’s fancy.” Clark felt silly for assuming otherwise. Obviously Wayne didn’t eat three meals a day in five star steakhouses.

Clark held the door open for Wayne on their way out of the building. The mid November air had a bite to it, and everyone on the street was walking with a purpose.

When they were only a few steps away from the door, Lois emerged from a cab holding a notepad and wearing a smile.

“Lois! I take it the interview went well?” Clark asked. She seemed surprised to see him outside the building, and even more surprised to see who he was with.

“Very. Where are you two off to?” She gave Clark a weird look that he couldn’t place.

“We were going to go down the street for ramen. We can wait for you to put your stuff down if you wanna join us.” Clark offered.

“I think I’ll stay in today, thanks. You boys have fun!” There was that look again.

“Lead the way, Mr. Kent” Bruce smiled. It was faker than the one this morning. Hm.

Clark stepped into an easy stroll through the chilly air with Bruce at his side. They walked a couple of blocks to the ramen place Clark frequented, Bruce asking questions about the city and Clark answering politely. 

The restaurant was busy when they arrived, but empty enough to find a table without much fuss. After ordering at the counter, the two men found a seat next to one of the many windows the restaurant was able to boast. Bruce insisted on paying for both of them and Clark didn’t argue too much.

“So, you got any thoughts on the _Planet_ yet, Mr. Wayne?” Clark took a sip from the tea he’d ordered.

“Please, I thought I told you ‘Bruce’ is fine. I think you guys at the _Planet_ are running a fantastic paper. From what I’ve seen so far, you all seem to be good honest people. You report the truth which is a lot more than I can say about some of the other papers I considered buying. I believe I made the right choice.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Bruce. But if you don’t mind my asking, why _did_ you buy a paper?” Clark hoped he wasn’t overstepping a boundary with the mostly stranger. He wasn’t real fluent in billionaire conversation etiquette. 

Bruce hesitated before answering.

“Can I trust that you’re asking this out of genuine curiosity? Not as a reporter?”

“You’ve got my word.” Clark promised.

And, for some reason, Bruce believed him.

“Off the record, I’ve caught word that LexCorp is looking to sink their claws into the printed media game. It’s no secret that Lex is a shady businessman, and I have reason to believe he’s much worse than just that. I knew that the _Planet_ was an honest establishment. I couldn’t see it corrupted when there’s so few like it left around.”

“That was… strangely insightful. Thank you.” Clark realized what he’d said as soon as it left his tongue “Not that I wasn’t expecting anything less, of course!”

Bruce laughed. “Don’t worry, I understand. You were expecting Brucie and I gave you Mr. Wayne.”

The awareness of the comment unsettled Clark, but he wasn’t one to talk about having multiple identities. Besides, it made perfect sense to have a social persona different from your professional one. The media just amplified the duality of people as famous as Wayne.

At least the man across from him wasn’t two people as different as Brucie and Batman (or something.) Clark mentally laughed at that idea. Bruce Wayne being Batman.

That was just funny enough to be an office inside joke whenever the new boss came around. Clark couldn’t think of two personalities more different.

Of course, thinking about that made him have to think about Batman’s personality. The arrogant, selfish, uncaring-

“Mr. Kent? Did I lose you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry Bruce, I’m still a little tired. Must’ve zoned out for a sec. And you can call me Clark.”

“Clark.” Bruce smiled again, a real one this time. What was it that was able to trigger this kind of smile from him? All he said was Clark’s name, it didn’t make any sense. 

“For what it’s worth, I don’t trust Luthor either. Unfortunately, every time I try to write a story to air his dirty laundry, I end up with no evidence.” Clark got frustrated just thinking about the problem that plagued him in both of his personas. He could just never make anything stick to Lex Luthor.

“Dirty laundry… I’m assuming that’s a saying and you’re not trying to steal from Lex’s linen basket?” Wayne joked.

“Oh, yeah.” Clark laughed, “I’ve been told I sound more ‘Smallville’ when I’m angry. Lois says it’s endearing, but I think she might be making fun of me.”

“I think it’s endearing too. You and Lois, are you…” Wayne trailed off before finishing his question, but Clark knew exactly what he was trying to ask.

“No, no. Not at all. She’s single if that’s why you’re asking.” It had to be. Why would Wayne care otherwise?

“No, nothing of the sort. I was just curious.” Wayne shifted the subject back, “Your sayings. I have another coworker who does the same thing. I can never tell what to take at face value and what I need to google the meaning of later.” Wayne laughed lightly.

“Is he from Smallville too?” If he was, Clark probably knew him. They didn’t call it Smallville for nothing.

“Well he certainly isn’t from Gotham City.” Bruce smirked like he was the only one in on a joke.

“Answer me this, though,” Bruce continued, “Yesterday he ended a tense discussion with ‘bless your heart.’ How mad is he?”

“He couldn’t possibly be madder.” Clark said as seriously as he could muster.

“Really? The words seem so nice though!”

“It doesn’t get much angrier than that. This coworker of yours delivered a fatal blow.” Clark laughed. 

“Dare I ask what you did to piss him off?” By now, their food had arrived and Clark had about 25 minutes left before he needed to be back at work.

Bruce nodded ‘no,’ Clark appreciated that he didn’t talk with his mouth full, but was disappointed at the answer.

“Alrighty then.”

Bruce dabbed at his mouth with a paper napkin. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, it’s that I’m genuinely not sure what I did wrong. I’ve been thinking back on our conversation and I stand by everything I said.”

“I see.”

“It’s alright though, enough work talk. I don’t have to worry about him until later.” This smile was very forced.

“Leaving your problems in Gotham?”

“Something like that.”

They ate in silence for a while, surrounded by the gentle conversation of other patrons and the comforting smell of warm spices.

“You were saying something about not trusting Luthor?” Clark asked to break the silence. If Bruce knew something that could help him as Superman, he needed to find out.

“No, I don’t. And I hear your city’s Superman doesn’t trust him either.” Bruce froze for a fraction of a second following the admission, almost imperceptibly.

“How would you know who Superman trusts?” Clark subconsciously shifted into his reporter voice. (Occupational side effect, he supposed.)

“Let’s say we have a mutual friend.” Clark highly doubted it. Then an idea hit.

“You wouldn’t happen to be talking about Gotham’s Batman, would you?” Clark put down his chopsticks, this was more interesting than his nearly finished noodles.

“I’ve spoken with him a few times, can’t say I like the guy.” Bruce made that knowing smirk again. What was the big joke that Clark was missing?

“Well, that’s something we agree on for sure.”

“Not a Batman fan?” Bruce asked.

“I’m more of a Superman guy myself.” Clark answered smugly, happy to be the one with a private joke this time. A little too on the nose, perhaps, but Clark wasn’t above easy jokes if they made him smile.

They returned to their silence until they’d both finished eating.

“I was going to stop by a coffee stand on my way back if you’d like to join me.”

“More coffee? Clark, I’m beginning to worry you’re addicted!” Bruce teased.

“It would only be my second cup of the day! Seems perfectly normal to me.” Clark defended.

“Maybe you’re crazy.”

Clark saw Bruce leave a very generous tip on the table as they left.

Crisp air greeted them on the other side of the restaurant's glass doors. The sky had the perfect number of clouds in it, and the wind was blowing the perfect speed. Clark could really go for a leisurely stroll right now. Or a fly. The second one might raise a few eyebrows, though, so he was willing to settle for a walk.

As they approached the coffee stand, Clark playfully jabbed Bruce with his elbow.

“Would you look at that, Bruce!” Clark feigned shock. “There’s a line! That means that other people are getting coffee right now too!” Clark gasped dramatically. “You know what this means?”

“Okay, maybe you’re not crazy after all. This line is pretty long for afternoon on a weekday, especially one so chilly” Bruce observed

“Well it should be, best coffee in Metropolis I tell you.”

“Is it now?”

Clark nodded solemnly. It earned him a smile. A real one. Clark swore to himself he’d crack that code eventually.

Bruce paid for the coffee too, despite Clark’s protests. They walked back to the _Planet_ together, hands being warmed by steaming cardboard cups, and Clark somehow ended up with Bruce’s personal number in his phone.

Bruce held the door for Clark this time as they entered the office.

“Kent! I need you with Sullivan on this story.”

“Sure thing, Perry!” He turned to Bruce “I’ve got to work, but thank you for lunch, it was real nice.”

“We should do it again sometime?” Bruce suggested.

“Of course.” Both men smiled. Clark turned around and walked with his coffee to Sullivan’s desk. She gave him a weird look similar to the one Lois had been giving him before shrugging and motioning him towards a chair.

-

Clark left the office feeling accomplished. 

He and Sullivan had been assigned to cover a real estate fraud scandal in one of Metropolis’s suburbs, and it turned out so well that Perry said it might print front page.

He was also still smiling from lunch, who knew the man that interrupted Clark’s coffee habits could be such a nice guy? He looked forward to working towards a friendship with Bruce, he seemed like the kind of guy Clark could get along with.

Batman on the other hand, Clark thought as he unlocked his apartment and realized what he had to do tonight, was not.

Today was the first of many forced shared monitor duties between Superman and Batman (as ordered by Wonder Woman.)

Clark wished he could argue his way out of this, to fight until he never got scheduled with Batman again, but he couldn’t beat Wonder Woman. He couldn’t even hope to. It was like starting an argument with Lois: futile and embarrassingly likely to leave him in tears. Shut up, people cry sometimes.

He arrived in the monitor room an antagonistic fifteen seconds late. To his surprise, Batman said nothing about it.

Superman plopped down into the unoccupied chair, and Batman jumped.

“Did I… scare you?” Superman was shocked. You couldn’t catch Batman off guard if you teleported into his room at night twirling flaming batons, it would be a gross understatement to say it was uncharacteristic of the man to get startled.

“No.”

“Oookay.” Clark focused his attention on the screens in front of him. It’d be a long couple of hours.

“I’m just thinking about something.”

“Is there any point in asking you what about?” Clark didn’t even look away from the screen. Asking Batman about his thoughts or feelings was the only thing he considered more of a waste of breath than starting an argument with Wonder Woman.

“Maybe.”

“Really?” Now Superman was the startled one.

“Well not if you act like it’s doing you some big favor.”

“I was just surprised is all.”

“Well Wonder Woman told me when I got here that you and I should make an effort to actually talk to each other when we’re stuck on these joint shifts. She phrased it like a suggestion but I’m pretty sure it was an order. This is me making an effort.”

“Admirable.” Batman frowned at Superman’s snarky comment. “So what’s got you thinking?”

“Just know that if you laugh I will end you.”

“I don’t know how you expect to do that, but message received.” Batman may have been glaring, it was hard to tell through the cowl.

“I think I went on a date today.” Whatever Clark was expecting, it was not that. Batman went on dates?

Wait-

“You think?”

“That’s the problem.”

“I-I’m gonna need a little more information.”

Batman sighed dramatically.

“I meant it as a date, but I’m not sure if my lunch companion realized that.”

“How could someone not realize they were on a date?” Clark wondered what kind of idiot it would take to be on the other side of this situation.

“Well I think I really like this person so I didn’t want to come on too strong, but I’m worried I was so careful about not scaring them off that it seemed like I was just being friendly.” Everything about the statement sounded ridiculous in Batman’s growly voice.

“You? Friendly? I don’t think anyone could make that mistake.”

“I didn’t come here to be attacked, Superman. I’m putting in the effort to be nice to you, you could at least do the same.”

“I was trying to joke, I didn’t mean any harm.”

“I just don’t want him to think I’m forcing anything weird on him.”

Batman leaned back in his chair. Clark spoke again.

“This person, was he acting like he was on a date?”

“How am I supposed to know how he usually acts on dates?” Batman raised his voice.

“I don’t know, you’re the detective!” Superman shouted back. This must have been a hilarious scene to stumble on as an outsider. Two of the most powerful men in the world angrily shouting at each other in their literal superhero headquarters over if a boy likes one of them back.

Clark took a deep breath. “Maybe try again? Make it more obvious this time? Or specifically ask him if he’d like to go on a date with you?”

“Maybe.”

Batman fell silent after that. No further attempts at conversation were made.

Clark was only focusing half of his energy on the screens he was supposed to be watching. It was a slow night. He’d had to comm Flash out to what looked like a drug operation in Star City an hour into the shift, but the problem was handled very quickly (obviously, he had Flash on the job,) and nothing exciting had happened since.

This gave him a lot of time to think. About Batman. He couldn’t imagine the other man on a date. Did he keep the cowl on? That would be funny. No, he must mean dating as his secret identity.

Clark knew there was a face under the cowl, but he’d never taken the time to think about what it might look like before. It was easier to be angry at a mask than a person, and Clark spent a majority of his waking hours mad at Batman. He never made an effort to separate the man from the character.

So he had a face.

(As most people do.)

Clark knew he was pale from the chin that poked out of the cowl, and his jaw seemed to be high and sharp.

He could be stunningly handsome and Clark would never know.

That made Clark smile. If he was anything to look at, surely he wouldn’t hide his entire face as part of his costume, right? No, Batman was no Bruce Wayne or anything.

Not that Clark was saying he found Bruce handsome.

Or maybe he was.

I mean, he’s on the cover of all those magazines for something, right? 

These thoughts swam around in Clark’s head until he saw Batman stand up beside him.

“Shift’s over.” He grunted. Then he walked out of the room briskly without saying goodbye.

Wonder Woman and Black Canary had the next shift, Clark nodded at them as they walked in and he walked out. Wonder Woman seemed disappointed but not surprised at the terse state of things between the other two.

Clark had no memory of the Zeta back to Metropolis or the walk back to his apartment because of how lost in thought he was.

He locked the door behind himself and fell onto the couch.

His phone chimed from somewhere beside him. Who the hell was awake at three am?

 **Lois** : So am I going to get the scoop on your date with Wayne, or do Smallville boys not kiss and tell?

 **Clark** : It wasn’t a date?

 **Lois** : I guess that’s a no

 **Clark** : It wasn’t a date!

Why would she think that it was a date? Clark was no fool, he’d know if he was on a date (unlike Batman’s clueless mystery man.) That did explain the looks she’d been giving him, though.

Clark picked himself up off the couch to take a shower, and soon he was fast asleep in bed for the healthy three and a half hours he could afford before he had to wake up and get to work by eight.

He woke up the next morning with foggy memories of the previous night’s dream. He didn’t want to think too hard on it, but if his memory served him right it featured Mr. Wayne with his blue eyes and not much else. Best to just move on.

When he arrived at the _Planet_ , he found a surprise at his desk.

A new mug sat neatly on top of the mess of papers and notes he’d left yesterday.

It was black and shiny, and Clark would have called it simplistically classy if it weren’t for the yellow eyesore on its face. Who gave him a mug with Batman’s emblem?

A note was inside the mug, “Maybe you’ll come around to the guy ;)”

Bruce?

Clark tried to think of anyone else who knew his distaste for Batman that would go buying him mugs over it, but he came up short. What a weird guy.

Clark picked up the mug and walked to the break room where an even better surprise awaited him on the counter.

A Mr. Coffee machine just like the old one shone from beside the Keurigs.

Good lord. Could Clark immediately propose to Bruce Wayne?

He made himself coffee (successfully!) and poured some (from the communal pot!) into the Batman mug.

He shuddered to think of what Batman would say if he knew Superman was drinking out of his merch, so Batman could never, under _any_ circumstances, find out.

Clark knew it was bad when he barely found himself caring. He was so touched over the gesture of the ‘downgraded’ coffee machine and the random gift that he sat down on the table in the break room and just stared at the stupid thing.

“You good there, Smallville?” Lois walked in looking concerned.

Her gaze turned from Clark’s dopey smile to the Mr. Coffee and her eyebrows went up North for vacation.

“Yeah you’re really gonna have to give me the details on your thing with Wayne.”

“There is no _thing_ to give you details on!”

Lois raised an eyebrow.

“I guess I should give him a call to thank him for all this. The coffee pot and the mug I mean.” Clark was a little bit in shock.

“He gave you a- he gave you a Batman mug?”

“Yeah. Batman came up yesterday.”

“Smallville if you’re about to steal my story-”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Lois. We were just chatting. No story theft involved.”

“Good. Then what are you waiting for?”

“What?”

“Call him! Call his office and ask for him and thank him for the gifts.” Lois smirked and crossed her arms. She took a sip of the coffee she’d walked in with.

“I actually just have his personal number-” Clark was cut off by Lois choking on her coffee.

“You have _what_?”

“I’ll just go somewhere else to call him then-”

“I don’t think so!”

“What, you want me to call him right in front of you?”

“If you’re not hiding some kind of scandal, what’s the big deal?” Lois raised an eyebrow. Oh, she had him there. It was a cheap trick to pull her Pulitzer-winning investigative tactics on Clark, but she did have him cornered.

“Fine.” Clark knew the only way out of this was through, so he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

He hit “call” and waited for Wayne to pick up. Maybe he wouldn’t.

“I see you have him in your contacts as ‘Bruce.’” Lois commented.

“He put himself in that way.” Clark realized after he said it that that was worse.

“Interesting.” Everything seemed to be interesting to Lois these days. She reached over and tapped the button to put the call on speakerphone.

The ringing stopped.

“Hello, this is Bruce Wayne speaking.” Clark froze. Lois waved him on encouragingly. It seemed mocking.

“Hey, Bruce! It’s Clark!”

“Unfortunately, I’m in a meeting.” Shit! Clark hadn’t even thought about the other man being at work.

“Oh! I’m so sorry-”

“Oh, that sounds important.” What? That didn’t make any sense.

“No, no. It really isn’t, I’m sorry to bother you.” Clark couldn’t believe he’d messed up so stupidly.

“An emergency you say?”

“What?”

“Well then I guess I’ll have no choice but to leave my meeting!” Oh. “I’m sorry gentlemen, but I have more urgent business. Carry on without me.” Clark rolled his eyes when he realized what Bruce was doing. He heard movement and angry exclamations from people who must have been Bruce’s coworkers.

Eventually, he heard a door close and the chatter was silenced.

“Clark, you couldn’t have called at a better time. I was dying to get out of there.” Clark could practically hear Bruce’s smile.

“Glad to have helped then.” Clark laughed.

“So what was it you were calling over?”

“I just wanted to thank you for what I found when I got to the office this morning. I’m excited to be able to make myself a cup of coffee without Lois’s help again. I’m worried she was starting to think I was stupid.” Clark threw in the comment because he knew it would infuriate Lois that she couldn’t respond without giving her presence away. Clark smirked as she fumed silently.

“Well she’d have to be crazy to think that about you.” Now Lois had the upper hand. She gave Clark an ‘I knew it’ sort of look.

“And anyways, Clark, you’re rapidly becoming my favorite reporter! And I’d hate to have you do something brash like quit working at the _Planet_ when the coffee drought finally got to you, how else would I get to see you?” Clark wasn’t blushing, you’re blushing!

“Well that’s mighty nice of you, Mr. Wayne.”

“How many times will I have to remind you to call me Bruce?” Lois smiled with sadistic glee.  
Clark heard someone running on Bruce’s side of the call.

“Tim? Where are you going?” He heard Bruce say.

Then the call ended. Tim. Who was Tim? Clark vaguely remembered seeing a headline about Bruce adopting a teenager with the same name, but Clark was constantly seeing headlines about Bruce adopting children so he could be mixed up.

“ _Interesting_.” Lois finally spoke. She looked like Christmas had come early.

“Is he… flirting with me?” Clark whispered.

Lois responded with an exasperated sigh and a tired retreat from the room.

Clark took a second to collect his thoughts before going anywhere. Bruce Wayne was maybe flirting with him. 

Huh.

Of course, Wayne had a reputation as a playboy so it was hard for Clark to feel special over it. On the other hand, at least according to the tabloids, Wayne didn’t do a lot of courting beforehand. It drunk one night stands after galas, quickies in his limo outside of high society events, stuff like that.

And Clark couldn’t pretend the idea of either with someone who looked like Bruce didn’t excite him, he was only human after all. (In the loosest of definitions.) But what if he had a chance at more?

Wayne wasn’t known for taking people to lunch and buying them gifts. Clark had also never heard of him taking interest in another man before. Not to mention that the scandalous stories had gone down significantly in the last few years, making way for gossip pieces titled “Is Gotham’s Former Playboy Prince Ready to Settle Down?” and the like.

He shook his head. He could think about all of this later, but now it was time for work.

Somehow, by the grace of God, Clark made it through the work day with minimal distractions.

Bruce didn’t call him back, which was good because Clark wasn’t sure if he’d have been able to focus for the rest of the day after talking to him again.

He felt as stupid as Batman’s mystery date for not realizing before that Bruce’s advances could be more than platonic.

Now that he realized, though, he was so stupidly glad that they were. If Bruce hadn’t caught a thing for Clark first, Clark probably would have fallen head first for Bruce at some point. He was everything that Clark liked in a guy. Funny, witty, hot, charming, hot, friendly, and hot.

Fortunately, Clark was a master of compartmentalization. He was able to put these thoughts aside for the work day, and now he had a whole three hour long shift of monitor duty in silence with Batman to think about it.

He’d learned his lesson from the night before that three hours wasn’t enough sleep for him to work a whole day on, so when Clark got to his apartment around 7:15pm, he flopped down on top of his made bed and crashed immediately.

He awoke at 11:45, made himself coffee in a travel mug, changed into his uniform, and sped to the moon (careful not to spill the coffee.)

“Oh good, you’re both here.” Wonder Woman said as soon as Clark walked into the monitor room.

“I’ve had an idea.” She continued. “I’ve noticed that things are less than friendly between the two of you, and I’m worried that it will start to affect your work.”

Batman ruffled at the insinuation.

“And we all know that this line of work is based on trust,” she pushed on, ignoring him. “so the two of you need to find some way to trust each other.”

“What are you suggesting?” Clark risked asking.

“Your secret identities. You should share them with each other.”

“What? No!” Clark shouted.

“Wonder Woman, how could that possibly help?” Batman phrased it like a question but he didn’t sound like he’d be willing to accept any answer.

“Well if you’d let me finish, maybe you’d know.”

They settled down..

“Thank you. It will help you because it’s a trust exercise. You will learn more about each other, and perhaps begin to see the man under the mask. You only know each other as caped rivals, but I’m sure you’re both normal people with lives and families and more to yourselves than a persona. If you get to know each other, you may come to really like each other. The first step when you’re getting to know someone is to ask their name.”

Silence.

“That makes a lot of sense, Wonder Woman, but I’m not sure I feel comfortable with it.” Batman spoke softly in a voice that wasn’t a growl. It seemed slightly familiar, but Clark couldn’t place it. The words were more reasonable than anything he’d ever said to Clark.

“Very well. I’ll leave you with this. My name is Diana Prince, I work at an art museum. I’d love to get coffee with either of you out of costume sometime. If you won’t tell each other your names, please try to get to know each other anyway.” Diana smiled thinly, and left the room.

“Is there a reason you don’t want to give me your name, Batman?”

“I don’t know if I can trust you, and if you know who I am you can get to my kids.” Batman admitted, the growl was partially back.

“You have kids?” That surprised Clark. Batman had kids. He wasn’t married, Clark knew that because he knew he dated. He liked men but he also had children, so maybe he was bisexual? Or perhaps the kids were adopted? Maybe Robin was really Batman’s son, then.

“There. You learned something about me.” Batman stared at the monitor screens.

“I don’t have kids, but I have family. Human parents.” Clark admitted (though he wasn’t sure why.)

“How?”

“My birth parents were Kryptonian, obviously. That’s the planet I’m from. Krypton. When I was a baby, the planet was dying from a plague. My birth parents knew they didn’t have long left, so they put me in a capsule and launched me towards another planet.”

“But you were just a baby!” Was that… concern in Batman’s voice?

“Yeah. I was barely out of Krypton’s gravitational field when the entire planet exploded from the disease. The force of the blast threw my ship off course, and I crashed in a forest on Earth. A human couple found me. They’d wanted a kid but couldn’t have their own, so they took me in. Raised me. They started to realize I wasn’t a normal human kid, but they loved me all the same. It was my Ma that made my first Superman uniform.”

“Wow. I had no idea you got here as a baby.” Batman was quiet again.

“Yeah. Now you know something about me too.”

This was the only conversation they had that night.

The next morning, Clark made his coffee at work in the Batman mug. He took a selfie with it, and texted it to Bruce.

 **Clark** : Thanks again for the mug!

 **Bruce** : Looking cute as always! What a nice surprise to start the day with :)

Bruce was getting more forward. Clark may or may not have blushed before quickly shoving his phone in his pocket as when Lois approached with that look on her face she wore more often every day.

“Whatcha got there, Smallville?” She asked.

“Nothing!”

“I’m sure.”

They were assigned a story that Clark guessed would take a day or two to fully uncover, and he was grateful. He loved working with Lois, and they made such a fantastic team it was no wonder Perry kept putting them on stories together.

It wasn’t a very exciting story. The day was uneventful, as was his night on monitor duty with Batman. Clark found out that most of Batman’s kids were, in fact, adopted. Bruce found out that Clark had an apartment in Metropolis. 

Diana met them in the monitor room before their shift again. This time she gave both of them her personal phone number, but Clark knew that texting her from his phone could expose his secret identity. He wasn’t likely to use it soon.

As per their new usual, they didn’t talk any more after the short conversation that led to the reveal of these facts. Clark went home after monitor duty, and went to bed.

Then it was Friday.

Clark and Lois were hard at work all day calling contacts and rushing in and out of the office for short local interviews. By lunch, they had all of the information that they needed, but it wasn’t organized and the story wasn’t going to write itself.

They made the decision to eat at their desks. Lois was elected to run two doors down to a sandwich shop to grab lunch for both of them and bring it back to eat with one hand while they wrote with the other.

Lois had been gone for a couple of minutes when Clark’s personal phone started ringing. He almost dropped the thing trying to answer it when he saw it was Bruce.

“Hello!”

“Hey, it’s Bruce.”

“It’s good to hear from you, how are you?” Ugh. That wasn’t what he meant to say. Clark would need to step it up.

“I’m pretty well, and you?” Of course Bruce was one of those people who used “good” and “well” properly.

“Doin’ good! What’s up?” Clark, despite his degree and career surrounding English and writing, was not one of those people.

“I was wondering if you were free tonight, I’d like to take you to dinner.”

“Oh! I sure am free. Would this happen to be a date, Mr. Wayne?” Clark panicked as he heard himself. Was that stepping it up too much?

“I sure would like it to be, Mr. Kent.”

“Are you picking me up or should I meet you there?”

“I can pick you up if you wouldn’t mind sending me your address. How’s seven thirty sound to you?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Then I’ll see you then.” Bruce’s voice was smooth and Clark found himself lost in it even after he’d been hung up on.

He put his phone down in front of him and stared at it, smiling like a dork, until Lois returned.

“Oh?”

“Guess who’s got a date tonight?”

“About time!” The two laughed as Lois unpacked their lunches from a paper bag, then it was back to work. Clark shot Bruce a text with his apartment’s address and a smiley face. He put his phone away before Bruce could respond so he couldn’t get distracted.

The work day had never gone so slowly.

When he and Lois finished their story, they went up to Perry’s office to hand in their final draft. Clark could barely focus on the comments he gave them reading over it. When he told them they’d done well and could clock out for the day, Clark bolted.

He had thirty minutes before Bruce would get there to pick him up. How nice should he dress? He had no idea where they were going. He had a nice white button up that wasn’t too wrinkled that he could pair with a dark blue suit jacket and some tan slacks. He got dressed then started messing with his hair. 

He knew it looked good pushed back, but that was his Superman hair. Maybe if he only pushed it back a little? He experimented with his hair for a bit.

The apartment! Clark realized he hadn’t cleaned up around the place in at least a week and there were probably dirty dishes in the sink, and socks on the floor in the living room, and he’s been balancing the toilet paper roll on top of the holder instead of actually switching it out for the empty cardboard tube.

Dear God, what would his mother say?

He spent the next seven minutes half walking, half flying around the apartment throwing things into closets and straightening pillows until the place was clean and inviting. Bruce might not even come in, but just in case…

It was seven twenty nine. Clark checked his appearance in the hall mirror one last time before sitting down on the couch where he had the TV on. He needed to seem like he wasn’t completely freaking out over being invited to dinner with the literal peak of evolution.

At seven thirty sharp, a knock came on the door. Clark took a deep breath only to have it immediately stolen from him the moment he saw Bruce. 

His slim gray suit brought out the radiance in those blue, blue eyes. His white shoes were so polished they looked new. Hell, they probably were. His button up shirt was collarless so he wore no tie, and Clark could see his collarbones peeking out from where another button should have been done up. Clark was pretty glad he skipped that button, though.

“Wow, you look great.” Clark breathed.

“You do too.” Bruce was equally as breathless. “You’re shirt’s a little bunched up here though-”

Bruce lifted his hands to smooth the wrinkles of Clark’s clothes but he froze when he felt the muscle underneath.

Bruce stole his hands away like Clark had burned him.

Clark was blushing, but so was Bruce.

“Would you like to come in, or are we leaving right now?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, could I use your bathroom? Then we can go.”

“Sure! It’s right down this hall.” Clark closed the front door and led Bruce deeper into the small first floor walkup.

Bruce stopped for a moment to look at the pictures Clark had hanging. His parents, Lois, Jimmy, friends from Smallville.

Bruce smiled at them. He lingered on one of Clark with a blond woman a little younger than him.

“Who’s this?”

“That’s my cousin Kara. She works for a different paper, but I forgive her.” Clark laughed. Bruce smiled again.

“It’s that door right there.” Clark sure was glad he fixed the toilet roll. He walked back to the living room and looked out the window beside his front door.

The car Bruce had arrived in was sleek and black, expensive but not flashy. There was an older man that looked like a butler in the driver’s seat. It hit Clark how rich Bruce was. They were probably going somewhere that Clark could never afford for dinner. Somehow Bruce’s personality had distracted Clark from his wealth up until now, and Clark was starting to feel ridiculous in his cheap suit and tiny apartment.

“I really like your hand soap, it smells so nice!” Bruce had returned from the bathroom and Clark’s moment of self pity dissolved.

“Thanks! I had some neighbors in Smallville who made soap, and I still buy some from them whenever I go home to visit my parents.”

“Give them my compliments!”

“Will do!” Clark laughed.

They stepped out of the apartment, and Clark locked the door behind them. Bruce opened the car door for Clark.

“Thank you.” He said as he slid into the seat.

Bruce walked around to the other side and got into the car himself.

“I see you’ve finally met someone with manners, Master Bruce.”

“Thank you, Alfred.” Bruce spoke to the driver like a kid whose parents embarrassed them in front of their prom date.

The driver, Alfred apparently, chuckled good naturedly before putting the car in drive.

“Where are we going for dinner?” Clark asked

Bruce responded with a vaguely French sounding noise.

“That is not a word.”

Bruce sighed. “It’s the place at the top of the Sullivan tower. In downtown.”

Clark gasped, “And you said you didn’t know any good places in Metropolis!”

“Did you ever think that may have just been an excuse for me to go to lunch with you?”

Clark fell silent as he processed that. Bruce’s laugh filled the car.

They arrived at the restaurant. Clark exited the car first, and in the time between himself getting out and Bruce doing the same, Alfred said something to Bruce that made him blush and slam the door in an embarrassed manner.

Clark decided blushing was a good look on Bruce. Better than good, actually. As he made his way toward where Clark was standing on the other side of the car, his pale face was still faintly pink. Clark just stared, taking it in.

They rode the elevator up to the restaurant where the hostess recognized Bruce immediately. She nodded to a waitress that led him and Clark to a secluded table for two near a window. It had an excellent view of the city below, one that Clark would never get sick of no matter how many times he got to see it.

“A business meeting on a Friday night, Mr. Wayne?” The waitress asked not unkindly, did the whole staff know him on sight?

“Not business this time, Alice.” He gave her a friendly smile. Her eyebrows did a little dance.

“I guess you’ll be wanting the wine menu then.” She winked before departing to retrieve said menu from a server station.

“You come here a lot?” Clark asked cautiously. Maybe he’d been wrong and Bruce did take a ton of people to dinners like this.

“For business and diplomacy, never on a date.” He had to admit, it made Clark feel a little special to learn he was the first person Bruce took here romantically.

The waitress, Alice, returned with several menus. She introduced one as drinks, another one as specifically wine, one as food, and said there was a dessert menu she could bring later. She left them to peruse the menus.

Clark’s eyes widened as he saw the prices, but he tried not to act concerned. Some of the dishes were more expensive than his monthly rent.

Bruce must have sensed his concern.

“It only makes sense that I’d pay, obviously, since I picked the place.” He said it casually enough that it didn’t make Clark feel pitied, just taken care of.

They ordered drinks and appetizers and the conversation drifted to their families.

Clark showed Bruce a picture of him with his Ma and Pa.

“You look a lot like your mother!” Bruce commented.

“That’s funny, you think so?” Clark laughed lightly.

“Why would it be funny? She’s your mother.” Bruce paused like he wasn’t sure if he’d said something accidentally offensive.

“Well I’m actually adopted, not really related to her by blood. It’s nice you think I look like her though!” Clark reassured him.

“You have her eyes.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

“What about your family?” Clark asked Bruce.

His entire face lit up, and he reached for his phone.

“We took our Christmas card picture last week and it’s incredible.” Bruce shoved his phone across the table at Clark.

Bruce was in the middle of the photo sitting in a chair wearing a truly hideous sweater and a santa hat, evidently trying to hold it together. Hugging him from one side was a young blond teenage girl with massive Christmas bauble earrings and an equally immense smile. Back to back with her was another girl, this one younger and Asian with a slightly more subdued grin and tinsel around her neck like a scarf.

On Bruce’s other side was a young boy who looked a lot like Bruce, but smaller and less pale. His refusal to smile and crossed arms gave Clark the impression that he didn’t want to be there. He was the only one in the photo not wearing a matching Christmas sweater.

Behind Bruce stood three young men. The one in the middle was smiling sweetly with his arms around the other two who seemed to be fighting with each other. On one side of them stood another young man who was smiling like most people do in a Christmas card. On their other side was Alfred, standing stiff and emotionless with a reindeer antler headband.

At Bruce’s feet near the boy at his side sat a large dog and a small cat. On the other side, a young lady with an orange ponytail poked her head out from behind the chair like she wasn’t meant to be there.

What looked like a cow stood in the far background.

The longer Clark looked at this picture, the more he noticed about it. There was so much happiness and personality in it. Laughing deeply, he handed the phone back to Bruce with shaking hands.

“That’s amazing. Can I get on your Christmas card mailing list?”

“Absolutely.” Bruce took a dignified sip of wine. He looked smart, but Clark could tell he was holding in laughter.

“I had no idea you had so many kids!”

“Yes, I’ve been told it’s a little ridiculous. All of them are adopted but one. Some of them aren’t even legally mine, I just took them in when they were going through a rough patch and they ended up staying. I have no idea how it happened, really, but I do love all of my kids very much.” Bruce smiled again, his mind lost in fond memories of his family.

“I notice Alfred is in the card?” Clark was hoping for more information on the man who seemed like he might be important to Bruce.

“Of course he is, the man raised me from age eight onward. After I lost my parents, he stepped in. He’s the closest thing alive that I’ve got to a parent. There’s three generations of unconventional family dynamics on that Christmas card!” Bruce laughed.

“He seems really great.”

“He is. He makes the best breakfast too, you really have to try it.”

It was an innocent comment, but the implications of it brought a light blush to Clark’s face and sent a gentle shiver through his body.

“Sounds good, I’ll be sure to.” Clark responded, and he allowed himself to feel proud of the light flush it sent to Bruce’s cheeks and exposed collarbone.

The rest of dinner went fantastic, save for the nagging dread Clark felt as it crept later and later and he remembered he had monitor duty at midnight.

Fortunately, by eleven thirty they’d already finished all of their courses and dessert and artisan coffee (of course,) and were walking towards the elevator to leave.

They made it outside and found Alfred waiting with the car. Bruce told him to take them to Clark’s place.

Clark realized he’d been worried about the wrong thing all night. It didn’t matter what time they left the restaurant if Bruce was planning on spending the night together.

Clark wasn’t typically a first date kind of guy, but on any other occasion he’d maybe be willing to make an exception for Bruce.

He found himself fit to be tied with Wonder Woman for the monitor duty schedule.

They arrived at Clark’s apartment after a silent drive, and Bruce got out of the car to walk Clark to his door.

He stopped at the door as Clark fumbled for his keys.

“I had a really good time tonight, I hope we can do this again soon?” Bruce asked.

“I’d love to.” Clark whispered

Bruce leaned up to place a gentle whisper of a kiss on Clark’s cheek. He pulled back and smiled.

Clark stood frozen and blushing, staring at this man who was so different from what the papers said he was. This man who did nothing but surprise Clark and make him laugh all evening.

Clark smiled back.

He opened the door to his apartment.

“Goodnight, Clark.”

And as Clark walked into his apartment, Bruce walked back to his car.

Clark closed the door.

He couldn’t help but think about Bruce. Who, in his position, wouldn’t? As he changed into his uniform, his mind wandered to what may have happened if Bruce had walked into his apartment with him just now. 

(Then he had to stop thinking about it immediately because his uniform was tight  
in the pants.)

Everything he’d heard about Bruce said that he would have followed Clark into his apartment and asked him to lead the way to the bedroom.

Hell, Clark had literally cleaned his room because of how much he was expecting it.

But he’d left with a light peck on the cheek? Maybe Bruce wasn’t the sex obsessed playboy everyone thought he was.

When Superman arrived in the monitor room, Batman was already there looking gloomier than usual.

“You okay, Batman?”

“I’m pretty sure I would have gotten laid tonight if I didn’t have monitor duty.”

“That sucks, man.”

Clark’s mind was still wandering when he got home from monitor duty that night.

Physically, he was brushing his teeth. Mentally, he was engaged in a very heated argument with himself.

What would he have done if Bruce had wanted to stay the night?

 _Let him, obviously_ Said the voice in his head.

But he had monitor duty.

_Diana would have understood._

Clark had Diana’s cell phone number. He could have just called her and said he couldn’t make it.

_Yes._

No! Then she would have his phone number, and could easily use it to figure out his secret identity.

_Would that really be so bad?_

Clark entertained that question for a little while. Would it? Clark trusted Diana. She was an honorable person, possibly more so than anyone he knew. She wouldn’t betray his secrets to Batman or Luthor or anyone else, Clark was confident of that. So why was he so scared?

Making a decision to sleep on the question, Clark climbed into his bed, (definitely not thinking about how empty it was,) and fell asleep quickly.

He woke up with the sun the next morning, and called home like he did every Saturday while his coffee pot heated up.

“Clark! How are you, honey?” His mom’s voice was full of energy despite the early hour, and Clark could hear the sound of shuffling kitchen utensils in the background. She was probably baking, she made a mean apple pie.

“I’m all right, and yourself?”

“Oh well I’ve just been busy as a bee all week with the Jeffersons knocking every time I turn around. Their last son just moved out, you see, and that empty nester syndrome’s been hitting them real hard. I think they just want the company. And you know I love Monica and Tucker to death, but hosting that many times in a week has really taken it out of me!” She huffed a sigh.

“And how’s Pa been handling the company?”

“Oh, well he gets to go out to the barn and pretend he’s working on something real important every time they come knocking. I think he thinks he’s got me fooled, but I know he’s just trying to get out of the house.”

“So it’s not a great weekend to have me around?” Clark had been hoping to fly home and tell him parents about everything that’s happened in the last week. His mom was able to rationalize any situation he got himself in, and his Pa gave simple and sound advice.

“Honey you know you are always welcome back home, and we love it when you visit. Actually, come to think of it, if you’re over we have an excuse to turn the Jeffersons away!”

“I’ll leave here in a few minutes.”

“Great, I’ll tell your father. I love you!”

“Love you too, Ma. See you in a few.” Clark tapped his phone screen to end the call, and he could picture his mom hanging up the receiver on the wall of the kitchen.

Clark let himself into his family home ten minutes later.

His mom stepped out from the kitchen doorway to give him a hug and herd him into the kitchen with her. She seemed to be in the middle of making about three pies.

“Something on your mind?” She passed him a stick of butter in a bowl, “Here, melt that.”

Clark took off his glasses to comply. “A lot, actually.” He passed back the now-melted butter.

“Work? League? Personal?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, shoot. Start from the beginning.” Clark wasn’t even sure where exactly the beginning was.

“Well, starting with the simple part, I’ve started going out with someone.”

Ma froze. She calmly set the bowl she’d been mixing on the counter.

“And you waited until now to tell me?” She wasn’t really mad, so Clark laughed.

“Well, it’s been a bit complicated. I didn’t even realize that our first date was a date, and our second one was yesterday so I promise I haven’t been holding out on you.”

“I’m sorry, rewind that a bit. How did you not realize you were on a date?”

“Well I thought he just wanted to go to lunch in a friendly way, and I didn’t pick up on the fact that he was flirting all week.”

“All week? Do you work with him? Work relationships can be very messy, Clark, you better be sure about this.”

Clark only half heard her. His phone had dinged twice, and the screen said the texts had said they were from Bruce.

He opened the messages.

The first was a selfie of Bruce drinking from a mug with a Superman emblem on it. It made Clark’s heart do a little flutter that he couldn’t identify as panic or affection. Did Bruce… know? 

The second message read “Your Batman mug came in a set, hope you don’t mind I held on to one.” Clark relaxed. Coincidence, then. It was ridiculously endearing to see Bruce with slight bedhead drinking from a mug with Clark’s own symbol.

He must have been smiling like a fool.

“Earth to Clark!” Ma shouted. She’d probably had to say it three times before he heard her.

The phrase had been her favorite to get her son’s attention for a while. She enjoyed the hidden joke.

“Sorry, Ma. What were you asking?” She smiled.

“I was asking if you work with him.”

“Sort of.”

“How can you sort of work with someone?”

“He, uh, he bought the paper recently.”

“Like at a news stand? I’d hardly consider that a coworker.”

“The company. He owns the _Planet_ now.” Ma put her bowl down again.

“So not only did you wait a whole week to tell me you’ve got a boyfriend, you wait this long into the conversation to mention that he’s, what? A millionaire?”

“Billionaire, I think.”

Ma just stared at him.

Clark laughed. “Didn’t think it was important.” He quipped.

“Well obviously it isn’t, I’d be thrilled to hear you’re dating anyone if they make you happy, but it is something I’d consider worth bringing up with your mother.”

His phone dinged again.

It was another picture. The dog that Clark recognized from Bruce’s Christmas card picture had joined the action. He seemed to be trying to lick Bruce’s face. Bruce was turning his cheek away and smiling so relaxed and genuinely that Clark found himself mirroring it. Bruce’s texts seem to have that effect on him. He was still holding the stupidly adorable mug, trying not to spill its contents.

Clark wondered how Bruce took his coffee.

“Is this your mystery rich guy?” Ma wiped her hands on a towel and walked over to stand behind him.

“Clark Jonathan Kent is that Bruce Wayne?” She whispered.

“Yeah” He whispered back.

“Honey, I’ve seen papers about him-”

“Trust me, he isn’t anything like they say he is.”

“Really, now?” She didn’t look convinced.

“Really. He’s a real gentleman.” She nodded at him as if to say she trusted his choices.

“You seem to like him a whole lot.” Ma teased as she resumed her pie process.

“Yeah.”

“That only covers personal, though. What’ve you got happening with work and the League?”

“Well with work it’s not much. Also Bruce related. Before we finally got together, Lois spent the whole week teasing me about it.”

“Well, that’s not so-”

“Also, I’d mentioned in passing that I wasn’t a huge fan of Batman and Bruce jokingly left a Batman mug on my desk. It’s a really nice mug and it was sweet of him, so I use it. Which means I now live in fear of Batman finding out I drink coffee from his merch.” Clark shuddered, only half comedically.

“Clark.” Ma chided. “You’ve gotta find a way to get past this ridiculousness with Batman.”

“Yeah, that about brings us to the League troubles.”

Ma sighed.

“Batman and I got into a pretty nasty argument about the monitor duty schedule.”

“Monitor duty… that’s where you play mall cop but for the whole world?”

“Yeah, just about. And Wonder Woman made the whole schedule for the month without asking us about it as punishment.”

“I like her.”

Clark huffed. “Well she’s assigned me to have duty with Batman every single night from midnight to three in the morning for the rest of the month. We’re a week into it and we can still barely have a conversation.”

“Well.” Ma drew her mouth into a line like she was holding back from saying something as she rolled out pie dough.

“Well?” Clark prompted.

“I can’t say I disagree with her decisions.”

Clark waited for her to continue, more than a little miffed at that.

“The two of you have been acting like children, and frankly it’s embarrassing for both of you that someone had to step in but I’m glad she did it.”

“There’s one more thing. It’s about Wonder Woman.”

“Go on.” Ma was guiding cinnamon apple mixture into a pie crust.

“She told me and Batman her secret identity. And gave us each her phone number. I haven’t used it yet. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to tell her who I am yet.”

“And now?”

“I think it would be nice to be fully honest with her, she is another founder of the League. I was thinking of asking her today if she wants to grab brunch tomorrow, what do you think?”

“Honey, I think that would be wonderful. You need a friend like that up there on all your hero missions. Just be sure to take her to someplace nice.” She said the last part very seriously with an implied ‘or else.’

“I will.” Clark smiled.

Clark stayed for lunch and pie before hugging his parents goodbye, promising to call again before Saturday, and taking off for Metropolis.

Metropolis from above was his favorite view. The spindling streets running around buildings to meet each other. The reflections of yellow cabs and black cars chasing each other distorted on the glass of skyscrapers. Thousands of people so far away that Clark could hardly see them, though he could hear each of their heartbeats if he chose to.

If he was in uniform, he would have lingered above the city to take it in for longer. As it was, he couldn’t afford to be sighted in his flannel and jeans so he rushed back home.

He landed in a park a few blocks from his apartment and smiled at a wide eyed child who saw him land. Her parents wouldn’t believe her when she rushed off to tell them she saw a flying man, but she’d probably always remember it so she may as well remember him being friendly.

He walked out of the park quickly in case someone else caught him landing.

He arrived at his doorstep at the same time as a van from a high end florist in the area.

“Mister Kent?” Said a sweet looking young lady as she hopped out of the van.

Clark nodded.

“Delivery for you.” She handed him an arrangement from inside the truck before bidding him good day and hopping back inside.

The flowers seemed lovely, if a bit odd.

Clark pushed the door open with his side and brought the flowers into his walkup.

Dinner, a kiss on the cheek, cute texts, and flowers? Bruce was really going out of his way wot this old-fashioned romance thing.

Clark smiled as he reached for the card, expecting a cute printed message from his boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

Could he say that yet?

Did it fit right?

That could be a question for another time.

Clark opened the card, and was shocked to find it handwritten. And long.

Six paragraphs in different handwritings unfolded from the card.

“Kent. I see that you have taken interest in my father. I honestly cannot understand what he sees in you based on the unremarkable background check I have run, but you don’t seem to pose any sort of threat so I suppose you can stay. Please note that if you hurt my father in any way, I will see to it personally that you don’t wake up the next morning. 

Watch yourself,  
Damian Wayne”

Clark stared. The tight, neat lines of cursive were remarkably restrained for a thirteen year old boy. Not to mention the elegance (and aggression) of the words. Clark obviously had no intentions of hurting Bruce, and it was undoubtedly harder to kill him than Damian realized, but the note was worrying nonetheless.

“Clark, Hi. I hear you’re smooching Bruce. First of all, gross. Second, also gross. Third, I feel obligated to warn you that he’s a sucker for romcoms and has watched serendipity like a hundred times. Just so you know what you’re getting into.

Good luck,  
Jason”

Clark laughed. Jason, if he was remembering right, was Bruce’s second oldest. It seemed like the letter was from six of Bruce’s kids.

“Claaaark! Hey dude!!! Bruce was texting someone stupid selfies this morning so we took his phone and it turns out he was texting you! (which I’m sure you already knew lol.) We just had to ask Tim for a couple favors to figure out where you lived and here we are. You seem to be a nice guy, and it seems like you’re making Bruce really happy so far. Keep him that way, or else!

With love,  
Stephanie :)”

Clark wasn’t sure if he was being ridiculous when he found Stephanie’s note more threatening than Damian’s. Maybe it was his background as a writer that made him cautious of anyone who uses exclamation points more than periods. Maybe it was the cheerfulness of the ominous last remark.

“Heyo Clark! This is an apology for all of my siblings, they’re all a little bit crazy. I’m sure you’re a lovely person and I hope you and Bruce work out, he’s been smiling pretty much nonstop since he met you. Also, side note that he doesn’t want me to tell you but I hope you’ll appreciate: he doesn’t even like ramen but he wanted to go to lunch with you that day so badly that he pretended he did. Feel free to tease him about that. Or don’t. Idc.

Sorry again and have a great weekend,  
Dick”

Clark found himself laughing softly at that. It was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard, he would have been happy to go somewhere else for lunch if Bruce had mentioned not liking ramen. It was also incredibly sweet. And he had Bruce smiling? It was good to know he wasn’t the only one walking around like he’d been hit by Joker venom.

“Hey. The sibs made me hack around until I found all of your personal information. You’re welcome for not giving them any credit card info or your SSN. I did happen to stumble across your Amazon order history tho, and are you okay? You order so much coffee? From one caffeine addict to another, there are better brands, too. Have you tried a Keurig? I can recommend you some brands of k-cups if you get one.

Get some sleep,  
Tim”

Fucking Keurigs. Ignoring the fact that this teenager apparently has access to his Amazon history and credit card information, (which is obviously hard to ignore but this week has already been so fucking weird,) why were the Waynes so obsessed with Keurigs? Yes, he’s tried one. No, he doesn’t plan to try again.

“Clark Kent. Be nice to B.

Cassandra.”

That was the end of the note. Clark looked again at the floral arrangement. He didn’t recognize any of the blooms. Deciding that a Google search into flower meanings was necessary, Clark hovered over to his bedroom to grab his laptop.

Not to go into too much detail, but Clark could say with utmost confidence that he’d never seen a more sinister bouquet.

Clark called Bruce.

“Clark! Hey, it’s good to hear from you.”

“Hi Bruce.” Clark’s eyes were still fixed on the rude flowers in front of him. He bit his lip to keep from laughing.

“Is everything okay?”

“I take it your kids found out about us?” Clark tried to keep his voice level, repressing his laughter.

A pause.

“Fuck. What did they do?”

“They sent me some, ah, flowers.” His amused voice betrayed his faux seriousness.

“One moment please.” Bruce said pleasantly. Then, softly like he was holding the phone far away from his face, “KIDS!”

Clark heard a few distant “whats” from the other end of the phone.

“COME HERE!”

Footsteps.

Bruce hung up. Clark laughed.

He affectionately pinned the note of threats to his fridge with alphabet magnets, and opened his phone contacts again.

Taking a deep breath, Clarked hit the button to call Diana.

“This is Diana speaking.” yeah, that was Wonder Woman’s voice all right.

“Hey, Diana, this is Clark. Well, you don’t know me as Clark but my name is Clark- I mean- ugh. Let me start over.” He kicked himself for not working out how he’d phrase that before.

“Superman, I presume?” She sounded playfully amused.

“Yeah.” She laughed lightly at his defeated tone.

“I’m very glad you decided to call. Batman actually called for the first time this morning, did the two of you talk about this?” Really? The hyper-anxious mornon with trust issues had worked up the courage to call her first?

“No, I had no idea.” Clark opted to say instead.

“Yes, we’re going out for coffee later today to officially meet.”

“That sounds real nice. I was wondering if you wanted to get brunch with me tomorrow morning? There’s a place in Metropolis with really great crepes if you like them.”

“I love crepes! We could meet at the Metropolis Zeta port at, say, ten tomorrow morning?” Diana offered

“Sounds perfect.”

They exchanged a few more pleasantries before hanging up. Clark exhaled his anxiety. He could trust Diana.

The rest of his day wasn’t nearly as eventful as spontaneous flights across the country, aggressive bouquets of flowers and threats, or anticlimactic secret identity reveals. It followed more along the lines of watching reruns of Friends and heating up some leftover pasta for dinner.

Batman didn’t say a word during monitor duty, apparently not wanting to share anything about his outing with Diana. Miraculously, the three hours flew by like they never had before.

Clark set an alarm before bed so he wouldn’t miss his brunch plans.

He dearly regretted that alarm when “Wake me up before you go go” started blaring from across his bedroom at 8:30 the next morning.

Groaning, Clark rolled out of bed and floated over to turn off the alarm.

Ten minutes later, he got up for real.

Twenty minutes after that, he was out of the shower and getting ready for the day.

Fifteen minutes before he was supposed to meet Diana, Clark stepped out of his door and into the comforting yellow glow of Metropolis’s Sunday morning sunshine.

On the walk to the phone box that served as Metropolis’s zeta platform, Clark grabbed a Sunday edition of the _Planet_ from a news stand. Looked like Lois had gotten called into work the previous night to write a breaking story about a gas leak in a middle school that was supposed to open next week. She’d done so well on the story that it was on the front page sporting her byline.

Clark felt a swell of pride for his best friend.

Clark was getting to the phone box right as a woman in burberry trousers and a stylish white short-sleeved button up stepped out.

“Diana!” He called out to her. She turned and looked around until she saw him waving. Her face lit up and she rushed over to him.

“Clark!” She gave him a friendly hug, “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too.” He smiled, relieved at how easy this felt so far, “It’s a bit of a walk to the brunch place, but we’ll pass by where I work and a really nice park so it isn’t so bad.”

Clark told Diana about the _Planet_ and Lois. Diana told Clark about Themyscira, the island she was raised on. They chatted pleasantly until-

“Clark! Diana!” They turned around to see Bruce behind them, hanging up a phone call and jogging to catch up.

“Hey Diana, fancy seeing you here.” Bruce smiled.

Diana looked a bit confused, but smiled anyway. “You as well. What brings you to Metropolis?”

“My daughter wanted a comic book that they only had in stock at a store here, and apparently I can’t win against puppy dog eyes.” Bruce laughed. His eyes sparkled like they always did when he was talking about his kids.

Bruce turned to Clark for the first time. “Hey you.”

“Hey yourself.” Clark responded fondly. Out of the corner of his eye, Diana almost looked like she was about to short circuit at their flirtatious interaction for some reason.

“How do you two know each other?” Clark asked Diana and Bruce.

“Bruce is a patron of the museum I work at.” Diana answered, Bruce nodded to corroborate.

“What about you two?” Bruce asked.

“We spend a lot of time at the same nonprofit.” Clark answered, not necessarily a lie.

“The one with that coworker you hate?” Bruce asked, recalling their lunch conversation earlier that week.

“The very same.” Diana responded. Clark could have sworn her eye twitched. “And how do you two know each other?” Diana asked finally

“Well,” Clark started teasingly, “I would have said we were dating, but yesterday his kids sent me the most menacing bouquet of flowers I’ve ever seen, and they may have scared me off.”

“Oh, it wasn’t that bad.” Bruce rolled his eyes.

“I’m scared, Bruce! I feel threatened!”

“I’ll protect you.” Bruce slid an arm around Clark’s waist.

“You’d better.” Clark leaned into the touch for a moment, savoring the contact. This was the first time he’d seen Bruce since he’d kissed him on the cheek, and Clark desperately hoped Bruce would do it again.

“As lovely as it has been to see you, Bruce, Diana and I actually have brunch plans.”

“Have a great time! I’ve got to go call Cass and let her know I got the book.” Bruce leaned up to kiss Clark on the cheek again (yes!) “Call me later.” He said quietly. Clark nodded.

Clark and Diana continued their walk to the restaurant, Clark reveling in the pleasant twist of fate that let him bump into Bruce this morning, and Diana looking like she was trying to put a puzzle together in her brain but all of the pieces were from different sets.

Diana loved the crepe place.

She loved it so much that she hardly stopped eating to talk, leaving much of the conversation to be one-sided on Clark’s part.

Clark didn’t mind, she asked him lots of questions and thoroughly answered any that he had for her. She seemed to be particularly interested in hearing about Clark’s relationship with Bruce.

This struck Clark as a little weird since she’d never given him the impression of being a gossip, but Clark trusted her and was happy to give her the full rundown of how they met and where they stood now. He even threw in the bit about his ma finding out he was dating a billionaire, after explaining his family situation of course.

She just nodded, still sporting the vaguely puzzled look she’d had since they first bumped into Bruce. Clark wanted to ask her about it, but didn’t want to push too hard. This was the first time they’d met out of uniform, after all.

“You don’t have to pay,” Diana protested, reaching for her own wallet as Clark reached for the check when they’d finished their meal.

“Don’t worry, I picked the place so it only makes sense that I would pay.” Clark quoted Bruce from two nights previous.

“But I’m the one who asked if you wanted to meet in the first place.” Diana reasoned.

“Sure, but I asked you to brunch today.” Clark retorted. He’d be a gentleman or he’d die trying.

In the end, they split the check. It was a solution that neither party was thrilled with, but they resolved to let it go as they stepped out of the restaurant and into the warm late morning air.

Clark was walking Diana back to the Zeta platform when she sprung a question on him that he knew she’d been wanting to ask all morning.

“Why do you refuse to share your identity with Batman?” Diana stopped walking and turned to face him in the middle of the sidewalk. Other pedestrians walked around her, slightly miffed about the obstacle.

“I don’t trust him, Diana.”

“Why? You know nothing about him! What if you met him as his secret identity and you really liked him. He’s a lovely person, we met yesterday.” Diana assured Clark.

“He does nothing but growl and antagonize me. I never start a fight with him,” Clark defended, “I’m not the one you need to be talking to. And from what I’ve met of him so far, I’m really not so sure I’ll like his secret identity much more. He’s the same guy after all, isn’t he? I can’t imagine our cape-free relationship consisting of any less fighting than our caped one does.”

Diana, for all that she looked like she was going to explode, did nothing but sigh and stay silent.

“I really did enjoy this,” She smiled when they arrived at the Zeta tube. “We should do this again soon.”

Clark agreed readily.

Diana’s eyes lit up with a twinkle that Clark had only seen in strategy meetings. “We could invite Bruce as well, as he’s a mutual friend of ours.” She proposed.

“Yeah,” Clark found himself agreeing without thinking about it much. “That sounds real nice.”

That afternoon, Clark got called into to work for a breaking story regarding a Senator and her possible connection to a recent museum robbery in Gotham.

He was pleased to see that Perry was giving Lois the day off after calling her in on Saturday, even if it meant working alone on the story. He was less pleased to hear that the suspects in the robbery were apprehended by none other than Batman.

“I want you in Gotham as fast as possible. I want you as close to that museum as they’ll let you get, and I want to be the best paper to break this story.” Perry had instructed him before the door from the lobby had even closed behind him.

Clark flew to Gotham clutching his work satchell, landed in an alleyway that was slightly less sketchy than the others around it, and walked through the city to the Gotham Natural History Museum.

It was no surprise that the place was swarming with reporters already by time he got there, every paper was anxious to sink their teeth into a story that incriminated a political figure. Half of the journalists there probably got started in the field because they wanted to be the one to break the next Watergate, to be remembered as the person who served justice to the people through print. Not to mention, stories about dirty politicians always sold well.

The curator of the museum was standing atop the front steps of the establishment giving a statement about the robbery. Clark saw that the building itself was open, so he opted to keep a super-ear trained on the curator’s statement for a quote while he slipped inside to see the scene for himself while the other journalists were distracted.

Following the sound of disgruntled voices, Clark found the empty gallery room with little difficulty. He entered to find a relaxing scene compared to the frenzy outside. There was next to nothing in the room. He supposed that’s how it always was with robberies, though, you’re there to see that there isn’t anything to see.

What he _did_ see, his black uniform starkly contrasting the white walls of the room that was advertised to be housing art from ancient and classical African kingdoms, was Batman.

He was talking to an older looking man with a police badge around his neck, and both of their heads turned when Clark stepped into the otherwise empty room.

Clark instinctively stood a little straighter when he saw Batman despite the fact that he was hardly intimidating in his reporter clothes. Batman, for whatever reason, went stiff at the sight of Clark as well.

Clark realized the bizzarity of the situation when Batman looked at him. Here he was, Superman, standing in front of Batman, and Batman did not know that he was Superman. He and Batman did not get along, he knew that he didn’t like this guy, Batman did not know that he was supposed to be a dick to this timid reporter in a cheap wrinkled suit.

“And who might you be?” The older man asked.

“Clark Kent, _Daily Planet_ ” He said

“Commissioner Gordon of the GCPD.” He met the Commissioner in the middle of the room, and they shook hands. “I’d expect you’re looking for a statement?”

Gordon seemed tired, like he’d been asked for a soundbyte one too many times today.

“I’ll answer this one’s questions.” Came an all too familiar growl. At some point, Batman had walked up behind Gordon without Clark hearing him.

He _hated_ it when Batman did that. But “Clark Kent, _Daily Planet_ ” had no problems with Batman. The two hadn’t even met. So he put on a smile and made a show of looking surprised.

“Really? I didn’t know Batman did interviews.” Clark didn’t have to entirely fake his surprise, he’d never seen Batman quoted in a story before. Judging by the look on Gordon’s face, he hadn’t either.

“He does when he wants to.” He hissed.

“Of course! No disrespect intended.” Clark made a show of tripping over his words to apologize to the bat. It was humiliating, of course, but random civilians were supposed to be intimidated by this kevlar-clad nightmare, so Clark tossed his dignity to the wind and forced the words out.

The half Batman’s face that Clak could see almost looked guilty, the mouth pulled into a thin sort of grimace. It was a look he never granted Superman, but maybe it was a relief that he was nicer to civilians than his least favorite hero.

“Ask your questions.”

“What can you tell me about the Senator’s involvement with this heist?”

To say that Perry was over the moon when Clark returned from Gotham with quotes from the curator, the commissioner, and goddamn actual Batman would be a massive understatement.

“Don’t bother coming in before lunch tomorrow, Kent. You’ve earned the right to sleep in.” Perry called as Clark left his desk stupidly late that night. Despite his annoyance about having to walk home in the dark, Clark was proud that he’d done well enough to have Perry feeling so generous. He’d need those extra hours of sleep anyway, he had monitor duty tonight.

Batman walked into the monitor room at exactly midnight.

“Museum robbery. Think Catwoman and a dirty politician were both in on it. It was an ordeal.” He provided as an explanation.

Superman nodded and pretended he didn’t know that already. It was amusing to him that he’d already seen Batman once today, and the guy had no idea.

He’d seen Diana today too, he realized. Brunch felt like a lifetime ago with the excitement of the afternoon. He remembered Diana’s proposal, going out sometime with both him and Bruce.

The more Clark thought about it, the more he realized it was a bad idea. Him and Diana were unlikely to constantly be on the same page about how they knew each other, so both of their identities would be at risk.

But the more Clark realized it was a bad idea, the more he wanted to do it anyways. Diana was lovely, and even though he’d seen Bruce this morning he was starting to miss him. They were rapidly becoming two of his favorite people (his parents and Lois still topped the chart, obviously, but Bruce and Diana followed closely,) and he loved the idea of the three of them grabbing drinks sometime.

What are the odds that the three of them knew each other, right? It’s a small world.

“Anything interesting?” Wonder Woman asked as she passed by the monitor room.

“Nothing.” Batman and Superman responded in unison.

Clark went back to thinking. He wondered what himself, Diana, and Bruce would be like as a group. Other than the brief run-in this morning, they’d never been in the same place at the same time.

“Okay. Let me know.” Wonder Woman said as she left. Batman and Superman nodded in acknowledgment.

Clark smiled, lost in his own world. Of course they’d never been in the same place, they didn’t even know they all knew each other. 

He thought about that morning when he parted with Bruce, saying he had brunch plans with Diana. He half wished he’d invited Bruce to join them, but then it would defeat the purpose of him meeting Diana in the first place.

Clark considered mentioning to Batman that he had brunch with Diana, but then remembered that Batman refrained from telling Clark that he had coffee with her, so Clark decided not to share.

Out of the corner of his eye, Clark looked at Batman. He felt an instinctive bubble of annoyance start to form in his stomach just looking at him, but this time he stopped to consider why it was there. Why _did_ he always fight with Batman?

They weren’t too different when he really thought about it, similar job descriptions and whatnot. Being an optimist by nature, Clark was sure that he and Batman had the potential to get along.

After all, _he_ wasn’t the problem. It was Batman.

Over the next two weeks, Clark went on six dates with Bruce. Possibly a ridiculous number considering they lived an hour and a half away from each other (well, Bruce did. Clark could make the flight in a matter of seconds but it was awkward to show up on someone’s doorstep unable to explain how you got there,) but Clark didn’t care. One of these dates doesn’t technically count because Lois tagged along making playful but tasteless jokes about the two of them, sufficiently killing any sort of mood there may have been (but making everyone laugh until their stomachs hurt.)

Bruce had spent the night at his apartment twice so far, (Clark had texted Diana and hoped she’d understood.)

Clark worried sometimes that they were moving too quickly. They’d only been together for three weeks but Bruce had become something of a constant fixture in Clark’s life. He felt like a teenager staying up late on the phone with Bruce some nights (not too late though, he always had to mysteriously hang up just before midnight but Bruce never seemed to mind,) but other nights he made Clark think about scary adult things like moving in together or settling down.

Moving in together was out of the question because Clark’s ties to Metropolis ran deeper than his reporting job, this was Superman’s home. And it would be silly to ask Bruce to uproot himself and his small army of kids from his family manor to move two hours away. His kids’ schools were in Gotham and generations of family history lived in that house.

That made Clark stress even more. It seemed like the only way he and Bruce would be able to make that step is if he told Bruce he was Superman. He cared about Bruce, obviously, but that was a huge thing to trust someone with. He just wasn’t ready.

He wanted that, though. Clark had dated people in the past. He’d had long-term relationships that lasted over a year, but even at the zenith of those relationships he didn’t feel as strongly as he felt for Bruce already.

Clark could hear Bruce’s heartbeat wherever he went, and smell the leafy scent of his shampoo lingered in Clark’s apartment. Bruce brought Clark home to meet his kids, and Clark said he would take Bruce to Smallville to meet his parents.

And he _wanted_ that.

A man true to his words, Clark was calling home frequently enough to sate his mother’s hunger for updates into his relationship. When he mentioned wanting to bring Bruce home, he could practically hear her smile before she started tittering about everything she’d have to do to get the house ready before he could visit and how “he WILL be staying in a separate bedroom, don’t you try to argue with me on that young man.”

He’d gone for lunch with Diana one day, he’d introduced her to Lois and they hit it off fantastically. He’d even started to find Batman more tolerable starting on the day he gave Clark Kent, a random civilian, an interview.

His life couldn’t have been better.

Clark found himself in high spirits on Monday morning due in part to the fact that it was his last week of night shift monitor duty with Batman. He’d been worried during the shift after the first night he had to call in as “indisposed” when Bruce stayed over. He hoped Diana would cover for him to Batman about his absence to keep him from going, well, _batshit,_ but it turns out that by some ridiculous coincidence, both nights that Clark missed, Batman missed too.

They both apologized profusely to Diana once they realized she’d been the one to cover both of their shifts. What are the odds, huh?

Regardless, Clark thought as he sipped coffee from his Batman mug, he wouldn’t have to put up with this unhealthy sleep schedule for long.

His phone dinged. He’d check it after he finished another paragraph of the fluff piece Perry put him on.

It dinged again. Maybe it was important, he fished the device out of his pocket as it chimed another time: all three messages were from Diana.

“Bruce Wayne has been kidnapped by Poison Ivy”

“Batman isn’t able to get to him”

“Go”

Clark listened for Bruce’s heartbeat as he rushed out of the building, calling over his shoulder to Lois that it was an emergency, and changing into his uniform at superspeed as he took to the sky.

He followed the sporadically racing sound through the air all the way to a warehouse on the outskirts of Gotham that was so overrun with plants that it looked like the roof was moments from collapsing under the weight.

Without hesitating, he used his heat vision to cut a hole in the ceiling, kick the messy shape of roof he’d cut into the warehouse below, and dove in faster than he knew he could fly.

Inside, the building was hollow, completely void of structural support outside of the gargantuan plants holding up the roof, pushing against the stalks on the outside that were working to cave the place in.

In the center of the botanical nightmare stood Poison Ivy, hovering above the hunched shape of Bruce, who was wrapped up to his neck in some sort of vine that seemed to be squeezing him ever so slightly. She turned around sharply when she heard Superman enter.

He flew down and landed in front of where she was standing, Bruce was in between them. The warehouse smelled of dirt and fresh air, not unpleasant, but Clark wasn’t paying close enough attention to anything but the two figures before him to care.

“What’s all this about, then?” Clark glared at Poison Ivy, right in the eyes.

“Superman! What a surprise! I have to say, I was expecting the Bat.” Ivy spoke like she was making small talk with him, like she wasn’t holding one of the most important people in Clark’s life captive not ten yards in front of him.

“I’ve been told he’s busy. Is there a reason you’ve kidnapped Mr. Wayne?”

“I’ve decided I don’t like billionaires.” She said simply.

“Fair, but still not a justification. You need to let him go, or I’ll bust him out of there myself.”

“You think that would be heroic of you? Do you know how detrimental megacorps like his are to the environment? I’m the one playing hero today, Superman. One billionaire at a time until the fossil fuel sucking corporations have all crumbled.”

“Wayne Enterprises relies almost entirely on sustainable and alternative energy.” Bruce spoke for the first time. His voice was steadier than anyone’s Clark had heard while kidnapped. He sounded more annoyed than anything.

“What?” Ivy asked.

“And we have researchers that spend every day trying to find out how to remove the rest of our carbon footprint. I’m not the billionaire you’re looking for.”

“So let’s say I believe you-”

“You should.” Bruce interrupted. “You should probably also let me go pretty soon, I doubt your plants will like Superman’s heat vision very much.” How was he so snarky even when being squeezed to death by villainous plants?

She released the vines rapidly, so rapidly that Bruce fell to the ground, unable to catch himself. Clark stepped forward to help him as Poison Ivy started talking.

“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt on this one, Wayne, but I will be checking up on all of that. If I find out you’ve lied…” she paused and narrowed her eyes. “Superman might not get here in time twice in a row, you hear me?”

“I wouldn’t bet on that, Ivy.” Clark narrowed his eyes right back as he helped Bruce to his feet.

“Either way, I’ll keep you busy. I’m confident that LexCorp isn’t as environmentally conscious as Wayne here says his company is,” Ivy mused out loud.

Clark stayed silent.

“Oh? Is that your blessing to make Luthor into food for my plants?”

“I don’t condone violence against anyone.” Clark said because he had to. Then, quieter, “I might not get there as fast as I got here, though.” Nobody’s perfect, not even Superman.

Ivy huffed a surprised laugh. “I think I like you better than Batman.” She said before a curtain of leaves appeared out of nowhere and whisked her off to wherever she spent her afternoons.

That was it? This was the easiest kidnapping case Clark had ever dealt with, she just let him go! Not that he was complaining, but is this really all that Batman had to do?

Bruce went slightly limp and leaned back against Clark’s chest.

He almost instinctively kissed the top of Bruce’s head, but then remembered he was in costume and Bruce was probably hurt.

“Are you okay, Mr. Wayne?”

“‘M’fine.” He mumbled, decidedly not fine.

“You don’t look fine. Where should I take you to get help?” Bruce was now only standing because of Superman’s support.

“I think my legs just need to wake up, she squeezed them.” He sounded distant. “And the rest of me. Oh, I’m probably gonna be all bruised up too. Shit, I’m gonna have to explain all this to my boyfriend.” His eyes went wide with the realization. Clark panicked slightly when he realized he’d have to miraculously forget all of the details of this event until Bruce told him. More concerning than that realization, though, was the slight slur in Bruce’s voice.

“Did she drug you?”

“Hmmm… maybe a bit.”

“A bit?” Clark was incredulous. “I’m taking you to the hospital. I’m about to pick you up, tell me if I’m hurting you-”

“Not the hospital.” Clark stopped. “M’ butler is medically trained. Just take me home, please.”

“Okay.” Clark agreed because he knew this to be true. “I’m picking you up now.”

He lifted Bruce bridal style, something he’d done before but under very different circumstances, and flew out of the hole in the warehouse roof and off towards Wayne Manor.

He landed on the stoop of the beautiful gothic mansion, and set Bruce down gently before ringing the doorbell. Alfred answered.

Despite the situation that met his eyes when he opened the door, Alfred remained expressionless.

“Do come in, then.” He said after a pause. Alfred motioned him into the living room that Superman had to pretend he didn’t know how to get to, and helped Bruce down onto a couch he had to pretend he’d never fallen asleep on while watching a movie with Bruce in his arms.

Alfred asked questions about what happened, and moved around grabbing various bandages and medicines as Clark answered. He stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do with his hands. He wanted to hold on to Bruce’s, but he wasn’t Clark right now. He couldn’t. 

That was when kids started emerging from the woodwork. First was Dick who Clark knew, but Superman didn’t.

“Superman?” He blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. “Why are you standing in our living room?”

“Mr. Wayne here was kidnapped by Poison Ivy, and Batman was busy so I flew to Gotham to help.”

Dick blinked again like he needed a second to process that.

“Oh.” He smiled. “What was Batman so busy with that he couldn’t make the time to rescue Bruce?” He smirked like he was trying to hold back a smile, crossed his arms, and popped his hip.

His demeanor reminded Clark of Nightwing, the younger vigilante that Batman worked with sometimes. He entertained the thought for a moment before deciding it would be impossible for someone so high-profile in their civilian life to keep a secret identity.

“No clue, Wonder Woman just told me Batman wasn’t able to get there.”

“Hm. That was rude of him.” Another voice said. Clark turned to see- shit, what was her name? Stephanie! Bruce had so many kids, he couldn’t keep their names straight. This one was definitely Stephanie, though.

“I’m sure he had a very good reason.” Alfred said without looking up from where he was counting pills to hand to Bruce.

“I dunno, sometimes he’s just like that.” Jason stepped out from a door Clark knew led to the kitchen. He was holding a milk carton and took a swig directly from it. He slammed the kitchen door closed behind him.

“Jason, could you stop doing that? We have cups! We have so many cups!” Tim’s voice protested from behind the door Jason had just slammed.

“Maybe Batman was just feeling lazy.” Jason continued. He followed the comment up with another drink of milk.

“Batman isn’t lazy!” Damian protested. When did he get there?

“Ah. You’re just too young to realize it yet. He’s actually very lazy.” Dick said, which spurred Damian into a tirade about how he wasn’t a child.

Clark was confused, both by the lack of concern the kids were showing for their father’s health and by the overwhelming dislike for Batman they seemed to harbor. “Are we not Batman fans in this house?” He asked, not unlike how you’d ask someone about their football team allegiances.

Duke had arrived at some point, (did no one in this family make noise when they walked?) and he looked mortified. The others seemed to look like they were trying not to laugh, odd, as their dad was lying on a couch in the same room being instructed to drink something that would flush the sedative Ivy had given him out of his system.

“Oh yeah, for sure. Batman is the worst.” Dick said. One of the kids, Clark couldn’t tell who, snorted quietly. Dick’s eyes started to twinkle. “Actually, I think Bruce is more of a Superman fan. He’s got a mug with your emblem on it that he uses every day.”

Bruce froze where he was on the couch.

“Not in a weird way.” Was all that Bruce could think to say.

Clark obviously knew why Bruce had the mug, and it certainly wasn’t a weird way. Superman had no way of knowing this.

“Oh?” He prompted. Dick snickered. Maybe he actually was Nightwing, apparently he had the brutality in him if he was willing to throw his dad under the bus like that for his mug choices.

Bruce coughed. “I have a boyfriend.” He defended weakly. Stephanie had a hand covering her face as she shook silently with laughter. Did his boyfriend have a secret crush on Superman? He couldn’t think of any other explanation for how weird the kids had been acting since his arrival. He also couldn’t decide if he was worried by the idea that his boyfriend might like Superman more than, well, him. (Shut up. You know what he means.)

“I do too.” Superman said.

“Is it Batman?” Jason said, holding a now empty milk carton by his side.

Bruce choked on the water that Alfred told him to drink all of. Alfred did not look impressed.

“No, it isn’t Batman.” Clark responded, maybe slightly defensively. The kids all laughed except for Damian.

“Are you sure?” Dick teased.

“I think I would know if I was dating Batman.” Clark reasoned.

“You can never be too sure.” Shouted Tim, apparently still listening from inside the kitchen.

“Well, I actually need to get back to work soon if you’re okay now, Mr. Wayne.” Clark was growing uncomfortable with the turn the conversation was taking. He wouldn’t have stayed this long in the first place if he hadn’t been Bruce that was compromised.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Superman.” Alfred stood. “I believe we have this all under control. Thank you for your help, I can see you out.”

“I think I forgot to thank you earlier.” Bruce called from the couch as Clark turned to leave.

“Thanks.” He smiled. Clark smiled back.

Alfred led him to the front door, thanked him once more, and bade him good day.

The day was getting older, and Clark knew he would have to answer difficult questions if he went back to work. Not wanting to have to make up a lie on the spot about what emergency he’d rushed off to, Clark opted to just go home and leave his briefcase at work overnight.

He had his phone and the keys to his apartment in his pocket, so there was nothing in it so urgent he needed it tonight.

As he let himself into his apartment, Clark thought about a number of things. Firstly, how it was a wonder he hadn’t been fired from his job yet with how often he rushes out the door with no explanation.

More importantly, everything that had just happened. Clark remembered the morally questionable comments he made to Poison Ivy about Lex Luthor. That was unbelievably stupid of him. Would she tell other supervillains about it? The press? Best case scenario, no one believes her. Worst case scenario, Superman suddenly loses the people’s trust and becomes someone who plays favorites.

That brought him to what scared him the most, his adversaries realizing that Bruce was a soft spot for Superman. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he managed to put a target on Bruce’s back the size of the “S” on his own chest.

It also bothered him that Batman was apparently so busy that he couldn’t save Bruce himself. The other hero was always territorial when it came to Gotham, never wanting another member of the League to encroach on his territory, but he hadn’t made any attempt to contact Clark to express contempt for his crossing of the invisible line between the outside world and “his city.”

Was he still busy, then? And what could he possibly be doing that was more important than saving civilian lives?

Clark wasn’t angry at the man like he might have been a month ago, he just wanted answers. He was starting to trust Batman as someone he could work with and talk to. Recently, he’d been learning more about the man and maybe even starting to like the guy. And this just didn’t seem like him.

Maybe Clark was starting to come around to Batman, but Bruce’s kids were acting like they couldn’t stand him. Did Bruce have some secret feud with Batman? Is that why he didn’t rescue him?

No, that was ridiculous. Bruce would have told Clark if he had any connection to Batman, negative or otherwise. Right? Well, maybe he wouldn’t have. Clearly he has his secrets if how casually his kids accepted the reality that their dad was hurt and Superman was in their living room was any indicator. Clark threw himself dramatically on to the couch in his own living room with a huff.

And could Bruce really have a thing for Superman? Obviously Clark knew that it would be insane to start feeling jealous of himself, but Bruce didn’t know they were the same person.

Clark pushed that particular insecurity out of his head, Bruce wasn’t the cheating type. And he trusted his boyfriend.

Boyfriend. That’s what Bruce had called him. For some weird reason, the word still didn’t sound right. Logically, he knew it was the name to describe what he and Bruce were to each other, but it felt wrong. It didn’t fit for some reason.

Clark shook his head as if the motion would help clear his rushing thoughts. All it did was tousle his hair a bit and make his glasses slide down his nose. Sighing, he got up from the couch and drug his feet to the kitchen to make coffee. His mother would always have a fit when he did that, claiming that she knew he was just doing it to pout.

He’d always try to deny it, but it was hard to justify dragging your feet when you don’t even need them on the ground to move across a room.

He went through the routine of making coffee, letting the process distract him from his own brain. He pushed the last button and waited.

Leaning against the counter of his small kitchen, Clark let himself explore the thought that was really bothering him, even more than unaccountable co-heroes and star-struck boyfriends.

Dick.

The more he thought about it, the more Clark realized how plausible it was that the boy was actually Nightwing. They had the same build, the same hair, the same face from what Clark could see of it under the domino mask.

Even their voices were similar, though Nightwing’s was a little more low and gravelly. Clark hadn’t met Nightwing on many occasions, and Dick even less, but what if he was right?

Clark was horrified by the idea of one of Bruce’s kids keeping such a big secret from him. Granted, Nightwing was an adult now, but wasn’t he Robin before? Had he been sneaking out of the house since he was a child to risk his life fighting Gotham’s underworld?

This was the hardest event of the day for Clark to process because it meant one of two things.

Firstly, it could mean that Bruce willingly allowed his nine year old son to run around the rooftops of Gotham with a random man dressed in a bat costume. That would mean Bruce approved of his superpowerless child being exposed to the horribly dangerous life of a vigilante, making him a pretty awful father.

Or it meant that Bruce didn’t know. That would mean this was on Batman. It would mean that Batman somehow met this nine year old and convinced him to spend every night lying to his dad and training to be a superhero. And that was all kinds of messed up.

Clark poured himself a cup of coffee from the steaming pot, but didn’t drink any of it.

The second theory didn’t make any sense, Batman had his own kids. If he was so hell bent on having a child sidekick, he could have asked one of his own. Hell, Watchtower gossip has it that the current Robin is actually his son! But Batman had morals, Clark was more than willing to say that about the man now that he’d gotten to know him better.

He had morals, and he wouldn’t actively go out of his way to endanger kids. So maybe Dick went to Batman and somehow made Batman take him on as a sidekick?

That didn’t make sense either.

Clark took a comically large gulp of coffee. It was too hot for a normal person to drink, but Clark didn’t care.

Bruce was a good dad.

A great one, even.

Clark couldn’t possibly see him condoning vigilante behavior on the part of any of his kids.

...Wait.

That’s when it clicked.

Clark slammed his mug onto the counter, splashing burning coffee onto his hand and up his arm, staining the cuff of his white work shirt. He didn’t even notice.

“I’m a fucking idiot.” Clark said out loud to his empty apartment.

It all made sense now.

Dick was definitely Nightwing.

That would explain the family’s weird relationship with Batman!

Dick must have kept his _extracurriculars_ a secret at first, but eventually come clean.

Clark knew that Nightwing and Batman had a bit of a falling out a few years back, but they were back on good terms again now.

Leftover feelings from that era would leave the family a bit weary of Batman on behalf of Dick because surely they took his side in whatever the schism was over. That would certainly give Dick and his family enough grounds to make fun of Batman occasionally.

It also explains why Bruce told Clark to try and come around to Batman nearly a month ago, it’s what he himself must’ve been forced to do after Dick came clean about being Robin. It probably eases the stress of knowing your son is running around saving Gotham to know you trust the person he’s doing it with.

In fact, Bruce and Batman probably met at least once because of this.

And the nature of the meeting explains why Bruce wouldn’t have told Clark about knowing Batman, he didn’t want to expose his son’s secret identity to anyone, especially a reporter.

Clark couldn’t fault him for lying to protect an identity.

Clark got stumped for a second after that. If Dick was Nightwing, why couldn’t he have saved Bruce from Poison Ivy earlier?

After a moment of reasoning, the answer was obvious. People would have made the connection between Dick and Nightwing if they saw Nightwing standing right next to Bruce Wayne, of course! Clark prided himself on being more perceptive than most, but it didn’t take an investigator to see the similarities between Dick and Nightwing.

That still raised the question of why Batman allowed Dick to sign on as Robin so young, but Clark trusted Batman’s character. There had to be a reason.

Clark stared into nothing, reveling in the clarity he could now see everything in. He felt ridiculous for not seeing it all before. 

Should he confess to Bruce that he knew Dick’s identity? No, then he’d have to explain how he put it together which would mean exposing his own identity as Superman.

Did he owe that to Bruce, now? An identity for an identity? The silver lining of all this was that Bruce was possibly more comfortable with the hero world than Clark realized before, and might not get scared away by Clark being Superman. And, apparently, he’s able to keep an identity a secret.

He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that, this was a lot to process.

Did he need to tell Batman? No, probably not. That would lead to the same problem with needing to explain how he knew.

Clark zoned back into reality or long enough to realize he needed to do something about the coffee on his shirt.

He returned to the kitchen a few minutes later wearing a t-shirt, and mourning the loss of a perfectly good cup of coffee, the sound of his footsteps accompanied by the background sound of the washing machine running.

Wanting to check the time, he tapped the home button of his phone to wake it up. He had a missed call from Bruce from a minute ago.

He called back.

“Clark?” Bruce sounded sleepy. Was he healing properly?

“Hey Bruce, I was in the other room and didn’t hear my phone. Everything okay?” Clark tried to keep his voice level, remembering that he was supposed to have no idea anything weird had happened today.

“Are you at work?”

“No, I actually took a half day today.” Clark felt a little sick with how easily the half-lie slipped off his tongue now that he knew what he knew.

“Oh. Are you alright?” Clark could have laughed. Bruce had been literally kidnapped and drugged by a supervillain a few hours ago and he wanted to check up on Clark?

“Yeah, all good. You?”

“Uh. Well…”

“Bruce?”

“Okay I don’t want you to worry…” Bruce trailed off. Did he really think he could convince Clark not to worry about him in this situation?

“Did something happen for me to be worried about?” Yes! As a matter of fact, it did!

“I’d just like to preface this by telling you I am completely fine.”

“Okay, that’s good?”

“Yes, it is good, and it means you have nothing to worry about.”

“Can you just tell me what happened, Bruce?”

“I might have gotten kidnapped.” Yeah, no shit.

“What?” Clark made his voice sound shocked and worried. Which, for his part, he was when he found out about this the first time.

“Poison Ivy thought my company was killing the environment or something? My company is pretty eco friendly though, so it was fine.”

“What? Poison Ivy? Did Batman have to go get you?”

“Apparently Batman was preoccupied, Superman did instead. And Alfred fixed me all up so I’m fine now.” He repeated. 

Clark asked a few more questions about it, made sure he was getting rest, and asked if Bruce wanted him to come over and help with anything while he recharges.

“No, really, I’m alright. I just didn’t want you to hear about this from the papers before me or anything.” Bruce reassured him.

After maybe ten more minutes of the phone call, Clark hung up so Bruce could get back to sleep. He set his phone gently on the table and dropped his head into his hands.

He felt like shit for lying to someone he cared about so much.

If Bruce was the one with the secret second life, would he have told Clark by now?

He didn’t tell Clark about Dick, but that’s different. That’s his kid. Clark was lying to him about  
. It felt real bad.

Clark returned to the living room couch where he got a fitful few hours of sleep before his phone alarm went off from the kitchen to remind him he had to go to monitor duty.

“Wonder Woman, how have you been?” Clark asked Diana in the hallway.

“I’ve been well, how did your rescue mission go earlier?”

“It was successful, Wayne should be back on his feet in a couple of days, his injuries were pretty surface level. Ivy did drug him a bit, though, he’s sleeping it off right now. Probably won’t be getting much else done tonight.”

Diana smiled at him knowingly.

“I’m glad you got to him. Speaking of people not working tonight, Batman came away from today injured as well. Nightwing will be covering his monitor shift tonight, he’s already in the monitor room.”

Diana walked away and Clark tried to will his blood to not drain from his face. Nightwing. Dick. (Probably.)

He must be going through a hell of a day, Clark realized as he approached the monitor room, both Bruce and Batman down?

Nightwing was, as Diana said he would be, in the room when Clark arrived. He was sitting sideways in the rolly desk chair with his legs swung over one arm of it. He had what looked like an iced latte from Starbucks, and he motioned to a drink carrier on the desk where another drink sat.

“Batman said you liked that kind. I kind of assumed he was lying because I can’t imagine the two of you talking about Starbucks drinks, but I got you one anyways since I was there. Hope he wasn’t lying.” Nightwing smiled.

Clark pulled the drink from the carrier. Cold brew with sweet cream. He couldn’t remember telling Batman he liked these, but they must have had that conversation at some point because it was his regular order.

“Thanks,” Clark chuckled, “I can’t imagine us talking about Starbucks either but apparently we did.” He took a sip. Oh, that was exactly what he needed.

“Is Batman okay?” Clark risked, “I heard he was busy earlier today, and Wonder Woman says he’s injured now.”

Nightwing blinked a few times, stalling. It was so identical to what Dick had done earlier that day that Clark felt any doubt he had left of the man’s identity be washed away.

“Yeah, he’ll be fine.” Nightwing said carefully. “He got a little beat up, but he’ll bounce back.”

“I sure hope so.” Clark watched the screens in front of him, “Tell him I hope he gets well soon?”

“Will do.” Clark could hear his smile. There wasn’t a hero on the Watchtower that smiled more than Nightwing. Clark himself was a close second, but even he couldn’t understand how someone who worked in Gotham and Bludhaven managed to keep such a cheery attitude.

“I didn’t know the two of you had started getting along so well.” Nightwing’s comment brought him back to earlier that day when Dick and Jason asked him if he was dating Batman.

“Well, forced monitor duty every night for a month makes it hard not to get to know a person. I wouldn’t say we’re real close yet, but I think we’ve both come to respect each other more than we did before.”

“That’s good. It’s hard to have someone’s back when you can’t trust they’ll have yours.”

Clark made a noise of agreement.

Three hours passed full of slowly nursing sugary coffee and laughing through enjoyable small talk before Clark and Dick both stood to leave. Clark made another well wishing comment about Batman’s health as the two parted ways at the Zeta platforms.

Clark’s Tuesday was peaceful for about seven minutes once he got to the office before he was called into Perry’s office to explain himself.

“Kent.”

“Yes, sir?” Clark was sweating. Was yesterday the final straw? Was he about to get fired?

“Are you okay?”

“Yes sir.”

“You’re a good reporter, Kent.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Oh, cut it out with the ‘sir’ bullshit. You’re makin’ me nervous with how nervous you are. I’m not gonna fire you if that’s what you’re all shaky about.” Perry stood up from his desk chair and walked around to where Clark was standing.

He clapped a hand on Clark’s shoulder in a way that reminded him of his pops.

“You’re a good reporter. I can’t think of anyone else down there in that bullpen that I could send to Gotham about an art theft that would come back with a quote from goddamn Batman.” Clark chuckled, still nervous, “But you run out of here a lot.”

Perry paused, removed his hand, and leaned back to sit on his desk. Clark stood planted to the ground, unmoving and silent.

“You know, I was an investigative reporter just like you before I was the editor around here, and I don’t think I’ve lost my touch quite yet.”

Clark didn’t know how to respond, and he still wasn’t sure where this was going, so he continued to stay quiet.

“You’re sneaky, Kent. And I’m usually happy to leave my reporters and their secrets to themselves, but you piqued my interest, kid. I’d apologize for looking into it, but I’m confident that you’d have done the same in my situation.”

Clark started sweating more profusely as the monologue started to take direction.

“I started noticing some things about whenever you had to run out. There was always something major happening in the city or someplace at the same time, you always seemed to get back right when the situation was done and over with, and Superman was always showin’ up someplace when you weren’t here.”

A pause. More silence.

“Then Wayne starts coming around, and you had me worried for a minute that you’d let him distract you from your work, but you pushed on just as diligently as ever. So I knew that every time you were running out of here, it had to be for a real reason. You really sealed my theory, though, with that quote from Batman.”

That confused Clark, he hadn’t used his status as Superman to get that quote, that was all him! Not that Superman wasn’t him, but, well, you know.

“Yesterday, though, any leftover traces of doubt I had got whooshed away. Bruce Wayne gets kidnapped and Superman rescued him? I wasn’t even surprised when you didn’t come in to get your stuff that afternoon. Don’t worry,” Perry interrupted himself as he saw Clark starting to panic openly, “I’m not going to tell anyone.”

“Then why-”

“Because I’m curious. And maybe a little selfish.” Perry admitted.

“What do you mean?”

“I just don’t understand it, Kent. You’re Superman. What are you doing with a day job?”

“Making rent?” Clark tried

A beat.

“What?” Perry whispered.

“It’s not like I’ve been Superman my whole life, I mean. I was raised like everybody else, grew up, got a degree, moved to the city, and started working here. I’d help people when I could but I wasn’t actively trying to be a hero. Then it sort of started to happen more often and my Ma got worried people would start to realize I was different and I’d lose my job and the rest of my life over it, so she made me a costume.”

Perry stared at him, wanting more.

“So in a way, I’m Superman _because_ I have a day job, not the other way.”

“I didn’t realize you, Superman I mean, grew up normal. How did you get your powers?”

“Oh, I was born with those. I’m from a different planet, I grew up here but I wasn’t born here. I’m adopted.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, my parents had a similar reaction to the whole different planet thing.”

“Right. So, I’ve been meanin’ to ask,” Perry tried to brush off the discovery that there’s an alien on his payroll, “Can you get us a sit-down with Batman? Lois has been dying to do that interview, and I certainly wouldn’t mind being the first paper to get that exclusive.”

“Oh. Uh, Batman doesn’t actually know I work here. Or that I’m a reporter at all.”

“Whad’you mean? You got us that quote from that robbery in Gotham.”

“That was just me. I mean, me as in ‘Clark.’ No Superman there.”

Perry actually laughed at that. “You’re a good reporter, Kent.” He said again.

“Don’t sweat about this, okay kid?” Perry stood up. “I respect both sides of you too much to tell the whole world about all this. And you don’t have to worry about losing your job over being gone to save the world, but don’t take advantage of that. I’ll know if you’re lyin’ to me about why you miss a half a day.” Perry squinted. Maybe he was going for ‘intimidating’, but he mostly looked like a mole rat.

“Thanks, chief.” Clark said as he backed out of the room. “I mean it.”

Clark went straight from Perry’s office to the restroom. He leaned against the sink and stared at himself in the mirror. That wasn’t how he expected his morning to start, that wasn’t what he expected Perry to say, that wasn’t who he expected to find out first.

He heaved a sigh and turned on the cold water.

Clark was feeling a lot of emotions right now and they were getting so tangled up in the pit of his stomach, they couldn’t find their way up to his brain for him to process them properly.

He shoved the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows.

Fear. That was definitely there. Perry wouldn’t use this against him, Clark knew that deep down. Well, he wouldn’t do it willingly anyways. There’s other ways to get information out of someone, Clark had seen enough examples of that in this line of work. Was Perry wearing a target now too?

That brought the guilt. His side job puts so many people in danger. People he cares about. Who knows about his identity now? His parents who mean the world to him. Perry who he respects more than just about anyone. Diana, who’s already got a target of her own. 

Clark shoved a hand under the cold water.

There’s anger in there too. He wanted to control who knew about him. He wanted to tell Lois at some point. To tell Bruce. He never wanted people just finding out on their own before everyone he loved knew.

He threw water at his face. He’d hoped the chill of it would cool it anger but instead it fueled it.

He wasn’t going to keep doing this.

He swiped his arm across his face so it wasn’t obvious he’d just been splashing water on himself.

He stomped out of the mens’ bathroom leaving the door swinging behind him.

“Clark?” Lois asked, worried as Clark approached her looking like a madman.

“Could I talk to you on the roof, please?”

“Sure?” She looked scared. In that moment, he hated himself for scaring her.

They climbed the stairs to the roof in uncomfortable silence.

“What’s this about, Clark? Are you okay?”

“I’m not sure.”

“About which question?”

“The second one.”

“What happened?” She asked.

“I need to be honest with you about something, Lois. Something I wish I’d told you awhile ago.”

If she hadn’t looked scared before, she did now. “Okay?”

“I’m Superman.” He said, then held his breath.

Lois didn’t respond for a while.

“Oh, _Clark_ ” She stepped toward him and grabbed him into a hug before Clark realized what was happening. She was so much smaller than Clark but he felt completely and entirely enveloped by her warmth and safety and friendship. He loved her so much.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you.” Clark shoved his head into her shoulder and tried to hide the fact he was starting to cry.

“Clark, honey, you don’t owe this to anyone. It doesn’t matter how long we’ve known each other. I’m so happy you told me, though. I always knew you were one of the best men I know, I just didn’t realize the whole city thought so too.” Lois always had such a way with words. She squeezed tighter and Clark let her. Needed her to.

“Perry found out.” Clark said. “That’s why I’m all upset. ‘M sorry for cryin’ all over you.” His tears made him stuffy.

Lois froze. “Is he blackmailing you?”

“No, no.” Clark reassured her. “I just wanted to control who knew, I’m sure I’m overreacting.”

“Never.”

They stood like that on the roof for another minute. Clark was sure they both had work to be doing, but Lois didn’t seem to mind. He pondered how he’d gotten so lucky to have a friend as wonderful as her.

Lois had questions about everything and everyone she encountered, and she had to be sitting on about a hundred and twenty right now regarding Clark’s double life. Still, she stayed quiet. She’d surely ask them all later, but for now she let Clark have the silence.

Not that the world was ever truly silent for Clark.

He listened for Lois’s heartbeat, it was loud because of how close she was.

He listened for Diana’s.

For Bruce’s.

Bruce.

He was going to tell him. Soon.

The rest of the day was a blur until midnight.

“Good morning.” Clark joked as he walked into the monitor room a minute past twelve.

When Batman didn’t respond, Clark repeated himself. “I _said_ good morning.”

“I heard you.”

“Oh.” One of those days, then. By now, on this final week of their arrangement, Clark knew not to push when Batman was having one of these brooding and thinking days. If he wanted help, he’d ask and he wouldn’t ask if Clark seemed too eager to help.

Clark did want to help. He stayed quiet.

“I want to tell my boyfriend that I’m Batman.”

Clark was having trouble deciding what felt like the response to that.

“Wow, big step.” Is what he settled for, then cringed at the stupidity of.

“I mean,” Clark continued, “That’s great. I was actually thinking of doing the same thing.”

“Telling your boyfriend you’re Batman?”

“No! I mean- shut up.” Clark huffed when he realized Batman was messing with him. It was hard to tell when he was joking.

Batman chuckled quietly for a moment, the closest he ever got to a laugh (in Clark’s experience.)

“I just hate keeping this from him. He’s met my kids and if I trust him enough for that I feel like I can trust him with anything.” Batman said.

“Haven’t you only been dating for a month?” Clark asked, skeptical of how easy it had been for this man to earn Batman’s trust. Then again, _he'd_ won Batman over in the same amount of time. And he and Bruce had only been dating for a month too and Clark had never met someone he clicked with and trusted more, (except, of course, Lois.)

“Yes.” Batman admitted. “I still want to tell him though, I don’t see this ending any time soon.”

“Has Batman finally found the one?” Clark gasped dramatically

“Well I’m not about to fall to one knee and monologue about finding my life’s purpose, but I don’t want him to stop being part of my life.” Batman’s voice went soft and distantly familiar. “I don’t want to keep secrets from him but I’m worried the truth will scare him away.”

This was a level of vulnerability the two men had not yet reached. Should Clark reach out to pat his shoulder? Would that even be comforting through all of the armor?

“If he doesn’t like you for all of you, maybe he’s not really Mr. Right.”

They didn’t bring it up again for the rest of monitor duty, instead talking about trivial things like the weather and Flash’s latest unfortunate celebrity crush.

Wednesday was uneventful except for a call Clark received during his lunch break.

“Hey Bruce.” Clark smiled as he answered.

“How’s work?”

“Oh, good. The usual. You?”

“Tim spilled coffee on my computer and the IT guys have basically turned my office into a quarantine zone until they fix it so I’m not getting much done right now, but other than that nothing out of the ordinary.” Bruce sounded fondly annoyed about the situation. He probably wouldn’t be so calm over the prospect of ruined files if it was at the hands of an employee instead of his son.

“Sounds exciting.” Clark said.

“Oh, incredibly.” Bruce deadpanned. “I was wondering if you wanted to come over to the manor Friday evening, it’s been forever since I’ve seen you in person.” Clark couldn’t agree more.

“I’d love to.”

Further arrangements were made, and they talked until Clark had to return to his desk. Perry hadn’t said anything else to Clark about their discussion the previous day, something Clark considered a small blessing.

When he got home from work that day, he called his parents.

“Clark, honey! It’s great to hear from you, how has your week been going?” Said Ma through the phone line.

“Uhhh…” What a question, huh? “Can’t say it’s been my best so far but it seems to be looking up.”

“Not your best, you said? What happened?”

“Well Bruce got kidnapped by Poison Ivy on Monday and Batman was busy for some reason so I had to go save him and I felt so guilty the whole time because he didn’t know it was me and then I realized that his oldest son is definitely Nightwing and I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t know that and my boss found out I’m Superman and I told Lois I’m Superman and then cried on the roof about it but I’m going to Bruce’s on Friday so that’s good.” Clark didn’t breathe until he got all of that out.

“That’s quite a bit to process.”

“Couldn’t agree more.”

“Are you okay? Your boss isn’t gonna try anything, right?”

“I’m fine, and he shouldn’t. There’s one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I want to tell Bruce that I’m Superman.”

“Honey, are you sure?”

“Yeah. I think I’ll do it on Friday.”

“If it’s what you want to do, I’ll support you.”

“Thanks, Ma.”

That night he asked Batman if he’d told his boyfriend yet.

“Not yet,” he answered, “I think I’ll do it Friday.”

Thursday morning took way too long. Clark just wanted the day to be over so it could be Friday, but every time he looked at the clock it had only been minutes since the last time. It always felt like hours.

Maybe it was his anxious energy keeping the next day at arm's length, extending the amount of time Clark had to stress over and reevaluate the confession he’d decided to make.

Lois had been asking him little questions about his other identity all morning too.

“Hey, what’s your uniform made out of?” In the breakroom from her position near the Keurig to Clark’s near the Mr. Coffee.

“If you drank lava, would it affect you at all?” As she waited for him to finish with the copy machine so she could use it.

“Do you know who Batman is?” Across the space between them at their desks.

He answered them as succinctly and quietly as he could. The questions always reminded him of what he was going to do the next day.

Everything went to shit at 4:00 in the afternoon. Clark didn’t even need his super hearing to pick up on the screams from the streets outside. His eyes darted to Perry who nodded in understanding. He ran out the door into the chaos outside.

There was a mechanical… what was that? There was a mechanical _something_ climbing up the side of an office building like a spindly King Kong, breaking in random windows as it went. Judging by the screams he was hearing from around the city, this wasn’t the only of its kind.

Clark ran into the nearest alley, spun into his costume, and yanked his League communicator out from his pocket.

“Superman to Batman. Urgent help needed in Metropolis.”

Then he flew towards the nearest giant robotic bug thing to do his worst to it.

Batman arrived when Clark was working on the third of maybe a dozen of these things. They were destroying buildings left and right, and they seemed to be closing in on him.

“What are these things?” Batman shouted to Superman.

“No idea, just know they’re bad.” Superman shouted back. If he didn’t have super hearing, he wouldn’t have been able to hear Batman’s resulting scoff.

Clark activated his laser vision to cut the bug thing in half down the middle like he had the others, but this one didn’t fall lifelessly deactivated to the ground like the others had.

No, it was some sort of mothership for about twenty smaller versions of the things that crawled out from the gap Clark had created in what would have been the thing’s stomach were it living.

He yelped in surprise as the things crawled out of the larger one and tried to attack him.

Just as Clark thought he’d taken down the last of the mini-bugs, one leapt at him too fast to block with sharpened metal pincers aimed directly at his eyes.

A batarang came out of nowhere and nailed the thing directly where its heart would be. It fell to the concrete below.

“Thanks!” Clark shouted to where Batman was blowing up a bug nearby.

“Got your back.” He shouted back absentmindedly. And Clark believed him.

Soon enough, Clark was leaving a fallen robotic corpse behind to join Batman in taking down the last of the things. This one was bigger than the others, and seemed sharper somehow.

Clark lasered off a few of its limbs to destabilize its grip on the building.

In response, a panel opened up and shot a bullet, so fast that if Clark had blinked he’d have missed it.

He didn’t miss it though.

And the bullet wasn’t going to miss its target either.

Batman.

Clark jumped.

The bullet bounced off of his back harmlessly, and he turned around to fire another laser directly at the weapon in the hopes of disabling it.

Apparently it was something of chink in the robot’s tough armor because the hit made the entire bug shudder and fall off the building.

Superman flew back to the ground and Batman followed using whatever bat-tools he’d be using to stay on the face of skyscrapers for long enough to fight.

They landed in unison and looked at each other.

“We fight well together.” Batman said, offering a hand.

“I agree.” Clark accepted the gesture.

He never would have been able to do this so quickly without help, and he was shocked to learn how well he and Batman fit beside each other on the battlefield.

Bright camera flashes blinded them as they shook hands, apparently every paper in Metropolis wanted the scoop on Batman and Superman’s first team up.

Clark spotted Jimmy Olson among the photographers and Lois among the reporters.

The two heroes stayed and answered questions for a generous amount of time, Superman readily providing the kind of content he knew the reporters were looking for and Batman reluctantly adding on to his answers.

Slowly, the crowd diminished as the reporters were sated by soundbites and photographs.

Lois remained.

“Lois Lane, _Daily Planet_ ” She said, marching right up to Batman and offering her hand.

“Batman.” He returned the gesture in mild shock over the reporter’s boldness.

“Hey, Lois.” Clark smiled.

“Hey, Superman.” She responded knowingly, returning his smile.

“The two of you have met?” Batman asked.

“He’s given me an interview before,” Lois supplied quickly, “I was hoping I could arrange the same with you?”

“ _Daily Planet,_  
you said?” Batman asked.

“The one and only.” Lois confirmed.

“I like y’all’s work. We can arrange something.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate it.” Lois beamed, offering another handshake which Batman readily accepted (much to Clark’s surprise.)

Clark, while thrilled for Lois, was focused on a different part of that statement.

“Did you just say ‘y’all?’” The word sounded foreign in Batman’s mouth, and Clark was positive he’d never heard him say it before. In fact, he made fun of Clark any time he said something vaguely southern.

“Did I?” Batman sounded genuinely surprised.

Clark nodded in affirmation.

“I think I’ve been spending too much time around somebody that says it every other sentence.” Batman tried to sound annoyed, but he just sounded fond. That could only mean one thing.

“This guy you’ve been talking about from the south?” Clark teased. “This is all off the record, of course.” he added as an afterthought directed at Lois.

“Of course.” She agreed, clearly interested.

“Maybe.” Was apparently the best they were gonna get from Batman.

“I’ll leave you two to set up that interview.” Clark said.

He then took off in the opposite direction of where he actually wanted to go, landed in a park, spun out of his uniform behind a bush, and walked back across the city to work.

Lois was already at her desk when he arrived. Her hands were flying across the keyboard of her computer and spinning up the story of today’s attack to make the cover of the next print. She smiled at him as he sat down at his desk and resumed his own work on a story that would sell a lot less copies than his other name ever would.

That was the first time he and Batman had fought together just the two of them. It was surprising how immediately they clicked, becoming a unit. Had he really jumped in front of a bullet to keep it from hitting Batman? Now that was just dramatic. Batman’s armor was bulletproof, and if that projectile had been laced with kryptonite Clark would be bleeding out on a sidewalk right about now.

What had possessed him to do that? Maybe he’d just come to care about the brooding man that sat beside him for three hours every night.

And, Clark realized, that brooding man seemed to have started caring about him too. He did throw that batarang that saved Clark earlier in the fight.

They had each other's backs.

They really did make quite the duo.

No, duo didn’t seem like the right word. _Ugh_ Clark thought frustratedly. If only he had a copy editor for everyday life. Then he wouldn’t have trouble finding words better than “duo” or “boyfriend.” Nothing seemed to fit right these days.

Clark was early to monitor duty that night.

Batman and Superman arrived on different Zeta platforms at the same time, and they greeted each other with smiles, an expression that was almost unsettling to see underneath Batman’s cowl.

“Superman.”

“Batman.”

They stopped and stood a few feet away from each other, and the few other League members that were insane enough to be on the watchtower at midnight for whatever reason gave them a wide berth, unsure of what was about to happen.

“Thank you for coming to Metropolis today, I don’t think I would have been able to do that without help. Without your help, I mean.”

“I know you would have done the same if it was Gotham. We worked well as a team.”

They’d come a long way.

At long last, it was Friday.

Clark pulled Lois into the conveniently empty break room when she arrived.

“First of all, congratulations on your story about the attack yesterday. You did really fantastic.”

“Thank you, congratulations on stopping the attack yesterday. I’d go so far as to say that you did fantastic too.” She joked. “But I’m assuming that’s not why you forcibly yanked me into the break room when we both already have coffee?”

“I’m going to tell Bruce that I’m Superman tonight and I’m freaking out about it.”

“What?”

“I’m going to-”

“No, I heard you. You’re sure?”

The break room door swung open and Cat Grant, the gossip writer, walked in. Clark and Lois both went abruptly silent when she entered.

“Am I interrupting something?” She asked, and Clark didn’t like what her tone implied.

“Nothing important,” Clark said with a forced smile. “How’ve you been, Cat?” Lois rolled her eyes at Clark when Cat was turned.

“Oh, you know, fine.” She said with an over dramatic sigh.

“You sure sound like it.” Lois said dryly. The two had never gotten along.

“Well, you know how it is.” Cat responded vaguely. She grabbed something out of the fridge and left the room, closing the door deliberately and with a wink.

“Anyways.” Lois said as she turned back to Clark. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“I can’t lie to him anymore. Well, I can but I don’t want to.”

“If you’re so sure then why are you so nervous?”

“Think about it, Lois!” Clark shouted the first word but immediately dropped to a whisper. “Think about what I’m telling him. There’s every chance he’s not willing to risk the safety of himself and his kids by staying with someone who’s such a target. And even if he doesn’t leave me over this, he’ll still know that I spent the whole first month of our relationship lying and keeping secrets.”

“You love him?” Lois asked simply.

“I haven’t told him yet, but yeah.”

“And you think he loves you?”

“Pretty confident he does. He did let me meet his kids, and they’re everything to him.”

“Then you’re overthinking it.”

Lois reached across the space between them to squeeze his shoulder.

As she left the breakroom, someone called out something congratulatory to her about her article from yesterday. Lois smiled and Clark smiled for her.

Clark left the break room shortly after.

He touched down outside of Wayne Manor’s gates right at 7:30 that evening, a few paces outside of the range of the security cameras.

He straightened his suit, for once making an effort for it to not be wrinkled, with one hand as the other was holding a bouquet.

He rang the bell outside the gate and it swung open. He wasn’t halfway up the way to the front door when it opened and Bruce stepped out, meeting Clark on the porch.

Bruce raised himself up slightly on his toes and leaned into Clark for a slow kiss.

When they parted, Clark held out the flowers to Bruce who smiled and took them without saying anything. Instead, he grabbed Clark’s hand and led him into the house. Clark’s heart was hammering out of his chest and he was convinced that Bruce could hear it. He was going to do it. He was going to tell Bruce.

“Clark, I need to tell you something.” Bruce said as soon as the door was closed behind them.

Wait, what? That wasn’t how this was supposed to go! _Clark_ needed to tell _Bruce_ something first!

“Okay…” Clark said. For the first time since his arrival, he listened for Bruce’s heartbeat. It was as loud as Clark’s. Louder than anything else in the manor. As a matter of fact, Clark had never heard the manor this quiet before. Where were all the kids?

“Just… just follow me, okay?” Bruce’s eyes were wide and vulnerable. “I need to show you this. To tell you this. I don’t want to hide anything from you.”

So Clark followed him.

Bruce stopped in front of an old grandfather clock in one of the manor’s many hallways.

“A clock?” Clark was confused.

“Just…” Bruce reached his hand behind one side of the clock and pulled. It swung open like a door to reveal the top of a spiraling staircase.

“Bruce, what is this?”

He just started walking down the staircase. Against his better judgement, Clark followed.

When Clark got to the bottom of the cold metal stairs, Bruce was standing in front of him in a room, no, a cave, with a huge computer desk off to one side and… wait…

“Is that the Batmobile?” Clark whispered. Wait then that meant…

“I’m Batman.” Bruce admitted. He sounded so quiet. Almost scared.

Clark stood in silence.

What the fuck.

“What?” Was not what Clark meant to say.

“I’m sorry for keeping such a big secret from you, I just wasn’t ready to tell you and-”

“I understand.”

“What?”

“I said I understand, Bruce.”

“You’re taking this so calmly,” Bruce said, “I thought you’d be freaking out a lot more.”

Clark was freaking out plenty, he was just saving it for inside his brain.

“Since we’re making confessions, I have something to tell you to.”

“What could follow that,” Bruce joked, “Unless you’ve secretly been Wonder Woman all this time.”

“Superman, actually.” Clark couldn’t help himself.

Bruce laughed at what he presumed to be a joke.

“I’m serious.” Clark said.

“What?”

Clark took off his glasses and stood a little straighter. Bruce’s eyes bulged

“I’m such an idiot.” He whispered.

“No, I’m pretty sure I had it more backwards than you.”

“You don’t even wear a mask and I still didn’t see it. I cannot imagine you having it more backwards than me.”

“Wait.” Bruce froze. “Diana.”

“What abou- oh my god. Diana.”

Bruce fumbled for his phone, tapped around on it for a second, and eventually held it out with the dial tone on speaker.

“Hi, Bruce. Is everything alright?”

“You knew!” Bruce roared into the phone.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific, I know many things.” She said with a level voice.

“Hi, Diana.” Clark said.

“Ah. So you two have finally cleared that bit up?” Came her amused response.

Bruce sputtered “You- you-” Diana hung up the phone.

Clark was processing what all of this meant, and it was all coming together so neatly he was a fool for not seeing it before.

Batman wasn’t ‘busy’ when Bruce was being kidnapped, he was being kidnapped.

Batman didn’t give Clark a quote that day in the art museum out of random friendliness, he did it because Clark was his boyfriend.

 _Clark_ was the guy that had Batman all soft and waxing poetic in the monitor room.

He and Batman didn’t happen to miss monitor duty on the same days by some crazy coincidence, they were in bed together.

_He'd slept with Batman._

“Every time we’ve had to call dates short we’ve rushed home, changed into costumes, and then met back up with each other without knowing it.” Bruce whispered, probably more to himself than Clark.

“Oh my god when you were in my living room as Superman and my kids were making fun of you they asked if you were dating Batman and you said ‘no’ but you _are_.” Bruce went on.

“Oh!” Clark felt a lightbulb go off. “That’s why your kids were talking bad about Batman, they were making fun of you!” Clark laughed. “That makes so much more sense than what I thought was happening.”

“Why did you _think_ my kids were standing around their injured father and roasting Batman?”

“I’ll sound like an idiot if I say it out loud so we’re just gonna let that one go.”

“Does that mean Jason figured it out?” Bruce pondered out loud.

“Yep.” Came a voice from somewhere else in the cave.

In a way horribly reminiscent of the previous Monday, the kids emerged one by one.

Jason, the source of the answer, was smirking.

“How did you figure it out before me? I spend most of my waking hours with either Clark or Superman and I didn’t know.” Bruce asked

“Some of your sleeping hours too, let’s be honest here.” Another voice teased.

“Stephanie!” Duke chided.

“It’s okay, I figured out that Dick was Nightwing and still didn’t put together that you were Batman.” Clark admitted.

“How?” Dick asked, appearing from somewhere within the cave.

“You blink the same.”

Dick blinked. “What?”

“This did not go the way I was expecting this to go.” Bruce rubbed the space between his eyebrows like he had a headache.

“Me either, but I think it went better than I could have hoped.” Clark stepped forward and pulled Bruce into a hug.

The kids whooped and hollered and someone, probably Jason, shouted “get a room!” but Clark just kept holding on to Bruce. At some point, Bruce’s arms wrapped around Clark’s waist and held on to him too.

Bruce.

Batman.

His _partner. ___

__In every sense of the word._ _

**Author's Note:**

> You made it through! I hope you liked the fic, leave a comment if you did! And have a nice day either way.
> 
> Please don't repose my work anywhere!


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